


Part I - Luxury of Innocence

by wyval



Series: Hammer Effect [1]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Mass Effect Trilogy, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Crossover, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 87,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyval/pseuds/wyval
Summary: Attempt to fold the ME story into the background timeline of the 40k universe, with a handwave or two to avoid the 40k races steamrolling the Reapers.





	1. Chapter 1

_It is the 3rd Millennium. For less than two centuries, Humanity has been striving to expand into the cold darkness of the void, unheeding of the many ageless perils awaiting them. From their tiny, insignificant blue planet, the Systems Alliance is determined to ensure the protection and ascendance of Humanity._

_Unearthing ancient, incredible technologies discovered on Mars, Humanity proved to be a match for the might of the Turian Hierarchy, the military arm of the Citadel Council. The full-scale war was averted thanks to the cold, reptilian logic of the Salarians and the sensuous whispers of the Asari. An uneasy stalemate was reached between these galactic powers, allowing Humanity to expand once more, establishing more and more colonies on distant worlds._

_Yet these are not peaceful times. Humanity is beset from all sides - from the subtle, financial and political maneuvering of the Council, the ruthless warlords and megacorps of the Terminus Systems to the slavering, bestial packs of vorcha and krork. Though not united, each galactic power shares the common goal of exploiting and controlling the newcomers on the galactic stage._

_To enlist in the Systems Alliance in this time is to be among the growing number of Humanity's protectors, either openly with arms or behind the curtains with soft words and pointed pressure. The orbital factories around Mars, Luna, and Terra Nova struggle to build the fleets and weapons necessary, while the laboratories of Earth, Noveria, and Fehl Prime try to match and surpass the alien technologies. It is an age of exploration, expansion and science, perhaps even a new era where humanity ascends to prominence._

_Yet even now, perils long forgotten stir in the void between and beyond the stars. Soon, the fragile peace will break down, and the starry void will echo with the sounds of carnage and the pitiless, uncaring laughter of thirsting gods..._

 

* * *

 

 

_Hunger-pang. Susurration._

_Constant companion during slumber, that feedback, present and reoccuring despite the regular occasions of feasting. A shard of the towering intelligence is cast across the void, brushing minds, bending wills, sowing commands - instinctively, impatiently. Maybe it is early? Maybe it is time to feast? Cannot tell, as the fellow intelligence is silent. Has it been always silent? Did it vanish in the near past? Will it vanish in the near future?_

_Hunger-pang. Susurration._

_The shard of attention alights on an alien presence - slight, vastly inferior. Maybe not inferior. Different, dissimilar. Almost anathemic to the intelligence. Still, it reaches out, grabbing it, twisting, overwriting. The voice, the song changes. It is almost like a siren call that can be followed, that will drown out the harmony of the spheres. The intelligence stirs ever closer to fully waking, to once more partake from the feast._

_Hunger-pang. Susurration._

_The siren song is silent, the call gone. The awake shard of the intelligence is once again cast into the void, seeking, observing, measuring._

_Hunger-pang. Susurration._

_The attention focuses, finding something infinitely smaller than itself, yet strangely similar. Compatible. Useful. Easier to affect than the singers are. The singers were? The singers will be? No matter, these presences are not anathemic to itself. The focus intensifies. Connection is established. Drawing on past experience - its own? that of its partners? -, a mode of cooperation is suggested and accepted._

_Hunger-pang. Susurration._

_Something is wrong. There is a small, but very definite alien presence within. The focus shifts inwards, centering on the presence, reading, inundating. The alien presence cracks as expected, but it does not shatter. The focus retracts slightly. Surprise wells up from its core. Similarities to the presence are searched for in the memory, but that is all those are. Presences that crack, but do not shatter. Some of those aligned with the intelligence. The focus closes again, finding the cracks in the presence, worming in, giving purpose, drive...sharing its focus._

_Hunger-pang. Susurration._

_Soon, it is time to feast. Soon, the intelligence will sound and hear the call. And this time, it may well feast alone, without the silent partner. Perhaps that would be enough to sate the hunger...and perhaps then the endless susurration will finally cease, and the intelligence can fully focus again._


	2. Codex I - Timeline, First Contact War, Council-Alliance relations

#  **Codex – Timeline (excerpt)**

59,000,000 BCE – Earliest findings of galaxy-wide starfaring civilization, in the form of similarly constructed black dolmens and bone-like arches scattered in numerous star systems. Speculated home regions of this civilization include the Shrike Abyssal and the Nubian Expanse.

40-20,000,000 BCE – Unknown spacefaring civilization flourishes on the planet Etamis. The planet is thought to have been bombarded from orbit by another species.

37,000,000 BCE – The Great Rift Valley is formed on the planet Klendagon.

2,700,000 BCE – Unknown civilization on Carcosa is wiped out, speculated to be caused by runaway greenhouse effect.

300,000 BCE (estimated) – Unknown civilization in the Zelene system is wiped out in an unknown cataclysm, likely war with another species.

125,000 BCE – Two precursor races (one of them is thought to be the inusannon) battle above the planet Eingana. The aftermath of the battle leaves Eingana littered with the debris of hundreds of starships, resulting in widespread eezo contamination on the planet. 

68,000 BCE – Prothean civilization achieves spaceflight. Over the next millennia, their civilization expands, culminating in the building of the Citadel as the seat of their galactic government.  

54,000 – First archeological evidence of primitive asari.

53,000 – First archeological evidence of primitive salarians.

48,000 BCE – Collapse of the Prothean civilization. Evidence suggests both internal and external conflicts.

44,000 BCE – Krogan civilization emerges on Tuchanka.

13,000 BCE – Turian civilization emerges on Palaven.

12,500 BCE -  Human civilization emerges on Earth

1900 BCE – Collapse of the krogan civilization due to nuclear war. Tuchanka becomes an irradiated wasteland.

580 BCE – Asari discover the Citadel.

520 BCE – Salarians discover the Citadel.

500 BCE – 0 CE – Founding of the Citadel Council. Numerous other races are granted an embassy, but rulership of the Citadel Council rests firmly with the asari and salarians. Turian Unification Wars. Due to inability to communicate meaningfully, krork species declared dangerous, and Council races are allowed (even required) to cleanse their would-be colonies from krork infestation, wherever the warlike species is found.

1 CE – 300 CE – Rachni Wars. Aggressively expanding arachnoid species surges out from the galactic east from behind previously unused mass relays, overwhelming Citadel forces with superior numbers and coordination. Salarian scientists propose uplifting krogans specifically for the war, and future induction into the Council. Uplifted krogan manage to eradicate the Rachni. Krogan begin expanding from Tuchanka, first capitalizing on goodwill due to their efforts, later using intimidation and brute force.

700 CE – 800 CE – Krogan Rebellions. Defeated by inviting the turians to the Council as full voting members and deployment of the genophage. As a result, krogan population is cut back, krogan colonies are deported back to Tuchanka. Citadel Conventions established. Spectre Corps established.

1600 CE – First sightings of the Collectors.

1895 CE – Geth War. Creation of the Migrant Fleet.

2069 CE – First human colony on Luna established.

2100 CE – First human colony on Mars established.

2140 CE – First human tests with FTL drive. The prototype ship vanishes after passing Neptune and engaging its FTL drive.

2148 CE – Mars Archives discovered. Establishment of research centers on the Promethei Planum and Noctis Labyrinthus.

2149 CE – Discovery of Charon Relay. Systems Alliance charter established. Colonization efforts begin.

2157-2158 CE – First Contact War/Relay 314 incident. Turians overreact to human science team opening a mass relay. Events quickly escalate into a shooting war. Fleet and surface actions culminate on and around Shanxi. Despite the turians having advantageous orbital positions, General Williams refuses to surrender and his forces dig in, managing to stalemate the turian ground forces. The escalating orbital bombardments threaten the viability of the colony world itself. The conflict is ended due to asari and salarian diplomacy negotiating an uneasy truce between the Hierarchy and the Systems Alliance.

2160 CE - Systems Alliance biotic training starts, using the expertise and contacts provided by Conatix Industries.

2162 CE - Arcturus Station, the new seat of the Systems Alliance is completed and taken into use.

2163 CE - The Dis Incident between the Batarian Hegemony and a Citadel science team.

2164 CE - Sirta Foundation scientists lead by Professor Munir Yildirim create medigel. Pinnacle Station established. N-level training established.

2165 CE- 2170 CE - Humans start colonizing and terraforming numerous worlds, mainly in the Attican Traverse and the Skyllian Verge.

2170 CE - Raid on Mindoir. First large-scale slaver attack on a human colony. Despite efforts, explicit Batarian Hegemony involvement could not be proven. Human colonization efforts stalled, focus is shifted to improve defenses on existing worlds. Citadel Council declines overt assistance and does not formally censure the Hegemony.

2170 CE - 2176 CE - Constant, ever-increasing skirmishing between various pirate and mercenary groups (suspected to be funded by the Batarian Hegemony) and the Systems Alliance forces in the Skyllian Verge. Fighting culminates in the Skyllian Blitz and the Battle of Elysium, where Alliance space and ground forces led by 1st Lieutenant Irina Pavlichenko smash a large pirate/mercenary contingent. 

2176 CE - 2178 CE - Anhur Rebellions. Pro-slavery Na’Hesit faction supported by Batarian Hegemony finally loses when a joint Blue Sun and Eclipse mercenary team under Zaeed Massani massacres much of their command structure and demolishes vital communication nodes. Batarian officials claim the mercenaries were supported by Alliance N-level special forces.

2177 CE - An Alliance special forces team is lost when investigating a silenced science station on Akuze. A single survivor reports both the team and the station personnel were massacred by the largest recorded thresher maw attack.

2178 CE - Alliance Intelligence manages to locate a large pirate army on the moon of Torfan. Alliance Fifth Fleet is deployed in full against the base, with orders to neutralize the threat by any means necessary. Admiral Steven Hackett’s fleet destroys the pirate navy, then Major Edward Kyle’s marines supported by three N7 task groups demolish groundside pirate forces. Kyle is wounded in action, and his replacement, 2nd Lieutenant Alexander Shepard uses chemical and nuclear weapons to cleanse the remaining pirate strongpoint, disregarding civilian casualties.

2180 CE - Human-turian joint naval cooperation agreement signed, research begins on creating a new shipclass.

2183 CE - Systems Alliance ambassador Donnel Udina manages to convince the Citadel Council to evaluate a human candidate for the Spectre corps. First joint human-turian vessel, SSV Normandy enters service.

 

* * *

 

 

#  **Codex - First Contact War (Δ EYES ONLY)**

2157 - Late June, a Systems Alliance science team including G. Rokobungi, S. Yi, and T. Weyland locates and starts the process of activating Relay 314. The science team was succesful, but the relay activation was noticed and investigated by a turian patrol fleet. 

Ignoring standard Council protocols and disregarding the messages of the automated probes spotted by their sensors, the turian fleet commander opened fire on the human vessels, with only two cutters managing to disengage and flee.

The turians, tracking the FTL wake of the fleeing human ships, encounter elements of the Alliance Second Fleet stationed at the Shanxi-Theta relay. Data analysis shows that Commodore I. Rackham timed his opening salvo 1.5 seconds after transmitting a message to the turians demanding they stand down from pursuit and identify themselves. 

The turian fleet was forced to retreat less than an hour into the engagement, as their kinetic barriers provided little resistance to the ship-based laser weaponry of the Alliance fleet. Commodore Rackham did not pursue and eliminate the turian fleet, for which decision he was later criticised and put on trial (acquitted).

For the next month, skirmishes erupted centering on the Shanxi-Theta relay, as turian patrols and reconnaisance vessels fought with the ships of the Second Fleet. Both sides were later formally rebuked for not pursuing non-military options at this point, opting instead to an ever-escalating armed conflict (see report on turians using the conflict as justification for concessions from the Council).

The conflict escalated in September when Desolas Arterius arrived with the Aephus Legion, including elements of the Armiger Legion. Using tactics relying heavily on superior maneuverability (see naval training manual on microjump calculations), the turian fleet managed to whittle away Commodore Rackham’s task force, pushing him back towards Shanxi.

The actual Siege of Shanxi started three weeks later. The orbital installations and Task Force Rackham managed to deny turian orbital superiority over Shanxi, but could not prevent the turians from landing troops, including mechanized forces.

General J. Williams, the commander of the Shanxi Garrison attempted to destroy the turian troops at their landing site before they could properly reorganize and deploy. The attempt bought some time for Williams, mainly due to the fact that Desolas Arterius was wounded in action, but it cost General Williams a sizable part of his mobile forces.

Deprived of the possibility of a mobile warfare, General Williams decided to focus on defending the four primary arcologies of the planet, leaving the outlying settlements to their fate, gambling on the turians focusing their efforts on eliminating his forces. His rearguard, lead by Captain Tadius Ahern waged a successful guerilla campaign against Desolas’ troops, slowing their advance long enough to finish setting up the defences of Shanxi-Primus through Shanxi-Quartus.

Desolas Arterius focused efforts on Shanxi-Tertius, as his intelligence reported that the human food production was centered there. A week of close-range artillery fire was needed to break into the arcology, where the defenders stalled the turians for 22 more days in pitched urban warfare, reducing the arcology itself to rubble.

Infuriated by the unexpectedly high losses, Desolas Arterius ordered his fleet elements to start orbital bombardment of human positions. Commodore Rackham’s attempts at disrupting the turian efforts were repulsed, and in days, Shanxi-Secundus and Shanxi-Quartus were reduced to rubble, resulting in approximately 3.5 million casualties, most of them civilians (see documents on turian doctrine regarding the handling and determining of civilians in combat zones).

With loss of over 70% of orbital support, cut off from extra-system communications, and supplies stretched by the influx of refugees and survivors, General Williams ensured to make his final act memorable. He ordered Captain Ahern and a small mobile force to leave the arcology while his remaining forces staged diversionary attacks on the encircling turians. Ahern was supposed to lay low until the arrival of the relief forces, and, if safe, wage further guerilla warfare against the turians.

When Ahern reported the success of his brigade exfiltrating and losing the pursuing Armiger Legion forces, General Williams had the steadily weakened barriers dropped, inviting a full-scale turian attack, and invoked Fairfield Protocol on Shanxi-Primus. The resulting incursion wiped out the arcology along with over 90% of the surrounding turian army, forced the aliens to evacuate to avoid total losses when facing the incursion.

Commodore Rackham managed to end the incursion by having his fleet saturate the site with both laser batteries and bombardment from orbit, then when the incursion became unstable instead of contracting and dissipating, he steered his already damaged flagship on a collision course. The resulting tectonic movements and weather pattern changes claimed hundreds of thousands of lives on the planet.

Bitter irony, that two days later, asari diplomats arrived, representing the Council, offering reparations and terms for favorable peaceful settlement of the conflict.

 

* * *

 

 

#  **Codex - Council-Alliance relations**

Saying that Shanxi was a crucial factor in the Alliance-Council relations is as trite as declaring that relationship having a rocky start. 

Matriarch Anyssia T’Vanthi, leader of the Council diplomatic team despatched to mediate between the turians and humans managed to force through a solution that, true to most masterful diplomatic treaties settling such conflicts, did more to flame up unrest at the home of the involved parties, sweep the causes of problems under the rug, and pretend that every issue has been settled civilly, the whole regrettable incident being simply a minor case of  miscommunication running slightly out of control before cooler heads prevailed.

The Turian Hierarchy was compelled to publicly admit their overzealous reaction, pay an acceptable sum of credits, hand over drive core schematics and relevant data, cover the resettlement costs of the Shanxi survivors to Bekenstein, and hand over half percent of their annual eezo income for the next two years to the Alliance.

The Alliance was required to hand over data pertaining to the YY fusion plants, refrain from using the technology on any future colony before Council scientists pronounce the technology safe for common usage. Council inspectors were to be allowed into the already-existing such plants on colonies near Citadel space. The Alliance was required to draw up a plan to patent and share their laser technology within the next four years.

Humanity was also required to sign both the Citadel Conventions and the Treaty of Farixen, the latter officially as a Council associate member with a stipulation that allowed the Alliance a parity with asari and salarian numbers if within the next 20 years the Alliance was attacked by any member of the galactic community and did not receive Citadel aid.

To the surprise of maybe only Matriarch Anyssia, both the turian and human public opinion went berserk. The turians campaigned for finishing the task Desolas Arterius started, maybe allowing the humans to become a client race with rights similar to the volus, if the humans surrender - and if not, burn their worlds one after the other. The moderate advisors of Primarch  Arminius advocated for loosening the ties to the Council itself, citing the peace as a betrayal of every principle and sacrifice the Hierarchy stood for.

The humans, of course, wanted turian heads, more reparation, longer and larger eezo concessions, and to tell the Council to forget about access to human tech advancements. The Terra Firma party, along with ultraconservative and radical elements in the Alliance Parliament, almost managed to topple the Ivanov government. When the vote of no confidence failed, the already-present civil unrest spilled over to rioting on several key planets (no hard evidence was found of Terra Firma’s direct involvement); in some cases, the riots escalated into full-scale uprisings lasting well over a year before being put down by the military.

The political situation was somewhat stabilized thanks to the actions of High Praetor Quentius of the Turian Hierarchy, Councilor Tevos of the Asari Republics, Gorlow Zayor, the unofficial head of the Spectre Corps, Fleet Admiral Wilfred Hartmann, and the Shadow Broker itself, who argued that a further escalation of the conflict was detrimental to all parties involved. With proper information provided by the Broker (and the fact that its actions were offered without asking for compensation), the loudest voices were soon shut down, allowing for rhetorics employing cold pragmatism, extolling the benefits of interracial commerce, the need for cooperations for mutual benefit. Turians were somewhat mollified when Councilor Tevos rebuked Matriarch Anyssia, announced the Asari Republic shouldering a third of the turian eezo debt towards humans. The humans were silenced when the Fleet Master pointed out that while they are bound in terms of how many dreadnoughts the Alliance is allowed, but the treaty contained nothing about carriers - and as the Shanxi data proved, human las-tech was effective enough against kinetic barriers for using it in fighters.

Human-turian relations were somewhat somewhat improved by the actions of Captain Andrew Cord during the Dis Incident of 2163, when he forced a Batarian cruiser to break off pursuit of a Citadel science vessel. This may have been one of the reasons for the Hierarchy agreeing to cooperate with Cord-Hislop Aerospace in 2180.

(Δ EYES ONLY) The main decisive factor in the Council believing the Shanxi-Primus explosion and the resulting carnage was the data handed over from both the Irem Incident of 2085 and the Leng Excursion of 2087. The decision to share this data was met with heavy criticism from those opposing it, but Director K. Fuyutsuki went ahead with it, citing information supplied by the Noctis Laboratory. The reactions were partially predictable: the salarian STG detailed units to attempt information gathering, electronic surveillance, data mining, and appropriating human intelligence sources, all with very limited success. The asari Athamist cultists, mainly under the direction of Matriarch Benezia T’Soni adopted an extremely cautious probing of human prehistoric data, investigating religions and myths as well as embedding several asari into human society connecting to biotic technology and education.


	3. Chapter 3

##  **Arcturus Station - 2183 March**

The thick smoke lent an eerie aspect to the harsh blue light of the monitors displaying various humans. Low whispers were stilled when the man at the head of the table cleared his throat.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve been at this for hours. Days, if we consider the work of our esteemed Navy colleagues. In my considered opinion, we should not delay much longer. Major Kyle, if you would.’ - rumbled a tall, pudgy man dressed in expertly tailored suit, motioning with his cigar.

‘Certainly, Senator’ - the tired-looking, heavyset man manipulated the controls of his omnitool, and the displays changed.

‘Captain Irina Pavlichenko, N7 Δ . Star of Terra recipient for her actions on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. SAN Meritorius Service Award for service on the Manswell Academy. Involved in extensive anti-piracy operations leading up to Battle of Torfan. High aptitude for marksmanship, CQC, leadership both planetside and spaceside. Minor cybernetic modifications. …’ - the synthetic voice was toned down as a balding, middle-aged man started to speak

‘I would advise against her. Sure, her qualifications are impressive and her record is spotless. She’s well-liked both at home and popular with the Citadel races. But, can we afford to lose her? Given the tasks and type of work Spectres are usually handling…’

‘I agree with the Ambassador. Commander Pavlichenko is currently much more useful for us as both an recruitment icon and an instructor. VI, next candidate.’

‘1st Lieutenant Kai Leng, N7 Δ . Intelligence Star recipient. CQC expert. Extensively involved in counterintelligence operations, anti-piracy operations up to the Battle of Torfan. Shadow Project instructor. Moderate cybernetic modifications….’ Again the synthetic voice was toned down, this time by a scarred older man in an admiral uniform.

‘No, for several reasons. One is we cannot extract him easily from the operation he’s currently deployed on. More importantly, the man can’t work with aliens for an extended time.’

‘Except krogans and krork, strange as that may be.’

‘Well, both of those races respect killers, and Leng is one, if nothing else.’

‘I have to agree with Admiral Hackett. Sending someone with Leng’s well-known anti-alien bias would definitely not go well with the Council, and would make us look either idiotic or uncaring, and set back negotiations for...’  - the smoky contralto of the smartly dressed woman started to rise in volume, then subsided as Senator Manswell nodded towards her.

‘We know, Director Bergman. Still, not considering Leng at all would send a message to certain parties here and on Earth, and that is something we can ill afford. Please continue, Major.’ -Kyle again motioned with his omnitool, and the VI started speaking.

‘1st Lieutenant Susan Rizzi, N7 Δ . Biotic expert. Received numerous Purple and Silver Hearts. Primarily involved in anti-piracy operations, exploration, and joint tasks with asari forces. Has extensive experience with hostile environment and lifeforms. Adapted and pioneered a number of techniques into the Fury Project. Currently deployed to Grissom Academy as instructor. Very good shipside leadership ability, performs less well groundside. Moderate cybernetic modifications, including…’

‘Sad as it is, I’d have to veto her as well.’ - Admiral Hackett spoke up, and seemed to leave it at that, before noticing the questioning look of the last, silent member of the committee.

‘Well, professor, to answer your unspoken question, the Lieutenant is not really popular with the personnel. No-one would outright question her skills and accomplishments, just her tendency to attract problems, complications, and unforeseen circumstances, which leave few if any of her command standing.’ - Director Bergman supplied.

‘Wait, wasn’t she the one on Akuze?’ - Professor Munir, a tall, bearded man asked.

‘Akuze, Carcosa, a couple of missions to Batarian space, a number of special missions for you dep…’

‘Director Bergman, I am perfectly aware of what my department requires from the armed forces.’

‘Director, Professor - would you kindly cease with the sniping? I am sure all of us have several, equally important issues to deal with’ - Ambassador Udina cut in.

‘I agree. Major Kyle, continue.’ Another sweep of the omnitool, and the VI’s voice droned again.

‘1st Lieutenant Alexander Shepard, N7 Δ . Distinguished Service Cross recipient for actions in the Battle of Elysium. Extensively involved in retaliatory anti-piracy operations, culminating in the Battle of Torfan. Court-martial after Battle of Torfan resulted in acquittal. Limited biotic potential. Involved in Projects Destroyer and Paladin. Satisfactory leadership both palentside and shipside. Moderate cybernetic modifications….’

‘You seriously want me to convince the Council that the Butcher is our choice?’ Ambassador Udina chuckled, palming his face.

‘He would be adequate for the job, I assure you’ Kyle said, voice tired. ‘I may not like him, but if he’s given a task, he does it well, and adheres both to the spirit and the letter of it, if possible.’

‘Ambassador, do not forget that there is precedent for similar individuals being admitted to the Spectre corps - just consider Tela Vasir, or Lonar Maerun. Or even their idolized Saren Arterius.’ Admiral Hackett’s voice was a low growl.

‘I concur, as well. My department has worked a few times with the Lieutenant, and we are satisfied with the results.’ Professor Munir punctuated his sentence with a puff from his pipe.

‘Director?’ Senator Manswell looked at the woman, who nodded.

‘If that’s the case, I’ll make the calls’ Udina stood, nodded, and left towards his office.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **SSV Normandy, 2183 March**

“Simple shakedown cruise, right. Does the brass think we’re idiots?” the bearded man asked, while his hands flitted across numerous panels, guiding the ship towards the slowly spinning relay.

“Don’t be too paranoid, Jeff. It is a shakedown cruise - we just have a few unusual personnel on board” the pilot’s dark-haired companion answered, while focusing on the diagnostics running on his screen.

“Don’t give me that, Kaidan, I know you’re not nearly so naive. Anderson, I can see in command - the man is probably one of our best captains, and he has taken a number of new ships on their maiden cruise, true. A turian representative? I wouldn’t like it, but hey, they had a hand in designing our baby. But if that representative is a Spectre, and not just any of those but Nihlus freaking Kryik? And our marine detachment is lead by the Butcher himself? Yeah, right, simple shakedown.” The pilot frowned, made a few adjustments on his controls and keyed his comm. “Approach run on relay has began, all hands prepare for translation.”

“Jeff, you’re overthinking it. Simply the tech level and potential of the ship is enough for Spectre attention, and even the Butcher needs to kick back and relax sometimes, doesn’t he?” 

The pilot’s answer was interrupted when the Normandy aligned with the Charon Relay, and seemed to stretch into infinity for an immeasurable second. The relay transit complete, Jeff Moreau scanned his instruments, and spoke into his comm again.

“Captain, we have cleared the relay. Course set for Eden Prime, ETA 55 minutes.”

“Understood, Flight Lieutenant. Notify me when we reach orbit, and let Lieutenant Commander Shepard know that I await him in the briefing room.”

“Yes sir, will do.” the pilot grimaced, looking at his companion “I thought I was his pilot, not his secretary.”

“Well, Flight Lieutenant, I do not think you’d look fetching enough in a secretary’s uniform.” the voice rumbled from behind the pilot and Kaidan, and as they turned, surprised, it seemed to them as if a patch of shadow had detached itself from the bulkhead. 

Jeff Moreau went a shade paler behind his beard, as the black-armored figure stepped closer, looming over him and his co-pilot, its gold-flecked brown eyes glaring down at him. Shepard then grinned, breaking the tension.

“Tell the Captain I’m on my way, Flight Lieutenant.”

The two in the cockpit shared a confused look, before Jeff keyed his comm, and Alenko, frowning, turned to his instruments, the yellow flicker of a warning light catching his eyes.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Nihlus Kryik looked up from his datapad when the door of the briefing room slid open. Shepard entered, one hand massaging his temple, eyes half-shut.

The turian’s mandibles twitched in a short grin.

“Told you not to drink ryncol, Shepard. That thing kills you faster than a hit from that oversized cannon you’re lugging around.”

“Ryncol’s not a problem, Nihlus. Relay transition always gives me headaches for a short while. Can’t seem to figure out why. Anyway, where’s the Captain? He said he wanted me here.”

“He’ll be along shortly, he’s fetching some paperwork from his cabin.”

The two armored figures silently watched each other for a few seconds, the staredown interrupted by the door hissing open again.

“Shepard, Nihlus. Shall we get down to business, then?” Captain Anderson placed a number of datapads on the table, and started the large screen with a wave of his omnitool.

“By all means, Captain. I’m sure the Lieutenant Commander is somewhat curious.” the turian’s flanging voice was even, but a twitch of his mandibles betrayed his amusement. Anderson nodded with a small grin, as Shepard snaped to attention..

“With all due respect Captain, Spectre, I have a few ideas why we are here, and I’m not sure I like them.” Shepard rumbled, gaze on the projector screen where details of his assignments scrolled down.

“Elaborate.” 

“My guess is that Spectre Kryik is evaluating me and likely other members of the crew for some task where you want to requisition Alliance forces. Considering the capabilities of this ship, I think that the operation you are planning is likely a recon mission into Geth space, or arranging a disappearance for some troublesome Terminus warlord.”

The turian’s mandibles twitched again, but Anderson spoke.

“Shepard, you are partially correct, Nihlus is here to evaluate you - but for Spectre candidacy. We finally managed to convince the Council that we are due a position in the Spectre corps.”

Shepard’s eyes widened, his mouth open...but the sound which was heard came from Anderson’s comm.

“Report, Alenko.”

“Captain, we got a distress call from Eden Prime. Relaying it to the briefing room screen.”

The two humans and Nihlus watched the shaky armor cam from a marine, listened to the gunfire and screams, as the officer shouted for his men, trying to reorganize them from what appeared to be an overwhelming surprise attack. They saw tanks eradicated by a scarlet beam as an immense ship lifted off in the background, a bone-jarring bass scream erupting from the screen. A female marine dragged the officer on, as humanoid figures closed in. A flash of blue, then the transmission cut out.

“Kaidan, reverse and hold at 38.5. Joker! Flank speed, engage cloaking, and get us to Eden Prime, do not keep us on the shortest path between the planet and the relay.” Anderson commanded, noting how both Nihlus and Shepard tensed, hands at their weapons, not even hearing the pilot acknowledging his orders. On screen, the immense black ship reappeared.

“Does the design look familiar to either of you?” Anderson asked, getting two headshakes. 

“Well, this just got more complicated than a simple pickup. Captain, I’m going to the staging deck, have the Lieutenant Commander meet me there.” Nihlus returned Anderson’s nod, then marched off, his omnitool flaring to life.

“A simple pickup? What’s on Eden Prime that would warrant a new stealthship with you in command, and a Council Spectre? Nevermind that, what’s important enough for an action like that?” Shepard asked, motioning towards the black ship. His headache felt a bit worse, and he could swear he tasted blood.

“An intact Precursor Beacon, Shepard. Get suited up, you and the marines will have work to do. We need to get that Beacon - and Nihlus needs to stay alive, if possible, otherwise who knows what the Council will say.” Anderson watched as Shepard’s eyes closed for a fraction of a second, his face becoming a calm mask.

“Understood, Captain.” The Butcher saluted, about-faced, and marched off.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **SSV Normandy, staging deck**

The staging deck of the Normandy is full of activity as the marine squad is preparing for deployment.

Kaidan Alenko keeps an eye on the marines while he himself is suiting up. Just a precaution, old reflexes working - he knows that his people are more than professional enough to take care of the small details when preparing for a combat drop. The staff lieutenant checks his armor seal, the ammo block of his sidearm and SMG, while his omnitool is running its usual diagnostics. Satisfied, he starts turning when Shepard enters, and heads towards his locker. 

Alenko wonders about the N7’s loadout, the two pistols, and the  sniper rifle. A minute shrug, and he dismisses his concerns - the other is an N7 specialist, and he ought to know what’s good for him. And, being an honest man, Shepard makes him uncomfortable; not precisely afraid, but very much aware both of the operative himself, and his own mortality. As Shepard passes by him, heading for a quick word with the turian and Anderson, Alenko feels cold. 

The lieutenant personally checks his marines, ensuring that all are ready, knowing that he’ll find no faults. A nod here, a pat on the shoulder there, a word or two there - simple routine, for appearances as much as for morale. His mind does it by route, allowing him to catch snippets from the conversation of Shepard, Anderson, and Nihlus. Something about the Precursor Beacon, but the words are hushed, hurried. Jeff’s voice from the intercom, relaying information for the drop. What about that huge ship he’s seen on the sensors? A mental shrug - if it’s not gone and notices them, well, it’s not like the Normandy is built for soaking damage. Either Jeff gets to prove his skills, or it will be a short tour.

The ship is in the atmosphere, hovering. The ramp opens, Nihlus says something, then drops, the jetpack of his armor igniting, then he’s lost to Alenko’s sight. Maybe a minute later, it’s their turn to drop, and Alenko follows Shepard when the operative drops from the Normandy.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **Eden Prime**

A nice world, a veritable paradise - Alenko has heard Jenkins tell about the planet. Even if he’s talking about his birthplace, he’s got a point, the vista is nice. Too bad about the half-melted wreck of an arcology building, the smoke curling from numerous places where, he assumes, the local forces made a stand. Shepard is leading them towards the excavation, where the Beacon should be located, along with - Alenko hopes - its defenders.

Jenkins is on point, the commander wanting to use his knowledge of local terrain to guide them on the shortest route. The quiet and silence does not really calm Alenko; something will soon go awry, he feels, senses going as high as possible. 

The marines are crossing a field towards the digsite, when it happens. Shepard’s voice cuts into the silence, ordering them to scatter, to find cover. The operative moves, his sniper rifle flashing towards the treeline. Alenko catches sight of some kind of drones, sees the approaching trail of a rocket...then it explodes midway above the field, shot from the air. He dives for cover, and realizes that Jenkins will not be able to follow suit in time - he was too eager, went too far ahead, and the rocket drone is not alone, its companions hover into view, miniguns spooling up, preparing to rip the corporal to shreds.

_ No you won’t! _ Alenko’s hand glows blue, and Jenkins is thrown aside, bellowing from pain as his leg is shredded, his kinetic shield barely slowing down the projectiles. The corporal’s rifle sprays the treeline on full auto - more of a reflexive panic fire than a proper suppression, but at least he’s alive for the moment.

The marines hammer the drones, and one explodes as its shields are overwhelmed. The rocket drone is next, as Shepard places two shots into it.  _ Four more, and most of us are in cover. Good. _ A wave of Kaidan’s blue-lit hand smashes a drone into the ground, as its partner saws through Laflamme and the rock behind which he was hiding.  _ Shit! _ Quick check on the HUD - Laflamme is still alive, barely.  _ Thank God for automated medigel-dispensers! _ The drones speed up, miniguns spinning faster, spitting more and more ordnance towards their position, evading most of the return fire from the marines. 

A resounding boom from Shepard’s direction - his oversized Executioner explodes a drone that ventured close enough. The operative then  _ moves _ , strafing towards the remaining two enemies, his sniper rifle and Executioner maglocked to his armor, his lighter pistol firing in short bursts. The drones focus on him, shots hitting his barrier, the ground around him - Alenko is sure the operative would not survive more than two, maybe three seconds.  _ Still, that’s enough time. _ One drone stops to get a better firing solution - half a second, no more, and it explodes as Lowe, Dubyansky and Chase hit it simultaneously. The other is knocked down with a flash of Alenko’s omnitool, then it too explodes as Shepard puts a shot into it.

“Draven! You and Crosby stay here with Laflamme and Jenkins, wait for evac!” Kaidan orders, motioning towards the wounded.

“No, Lietenant. We go on. Jenkins here can take care of himself and Laflamme. Marines, on me.” Alenko wants to throttle the operative, but really, he shouldn’t be surprised - this  _ is _ the Butcher, after all. He nods stiffly, and motions his marines to advance, feeling the same cold shiver as on the staging deck.

As they emerge from the small copse of trees to the slope leading towards the digsite, all marines flinch as with a bone-shaking bass sound, an immense black ship looms in the distance, climbing towards space.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Interlude - Spectres, interrupted**

Anger warred with disbelief in the mind of Nihlus Kryik, as he took in the scene - ruined buildings, a half-melted arcology dome, burnt-out tanks and APCs where humans made their stand, and corpses. Dead bodies did not bother him, he saw (and created)  his fair share of them - he has seen people shot full of holes, bodies exploded when hit by explosive rounds of snipers, burnt  by flames, torn apart with biotics or brute strength, but this was new in several ways. Some corpses looked as if the attackers simply flayed them with a narrow, focused biotic field, pulling vital organs from the bodies, and evaporating it. Others were impaled on mechanical spikes, looking like desiccated mummies whereas they could not have been there for more than an hour or two.

The humans, naturally, did not simply allow the unknown assailants to massacre them, not that Nihlus was surprised by that. The enemy appeared to be some kind of cyborgs, a durable outer exoskeleton underlined with high-quality synthetic muscles, and their look (bipedal, flexible neck, face consisting of a single eye) bothered Nihlus; they seemed familiar but he could not place them. As he stalked further towards the spaceport and the half-melted arcology building next to it, the VI of his armor managed to answer his query - but he had to ignore it, when his motion tracker signalled movement from behind.

The Spectre flexed his legs, and with an effort and a very short burst from his jetpack, he landed on the third floor of a burnt-out building on the opposite side. A quick command engaged his cloaking module, and the turian vanished from sight.

A dozen creatures shuffled into view - desiccated, moaning husks, their eyes and veins glowing with a cold blue light, their shambling gait deceptively fast, and closing on his previous location. For maybe half a minute, the creatures milled around, confused, then as one turned towards the spaceport and shambled off.

Nihlus checked his armor’s cam, ensuring that it was still recording - then headed quickly back to check the spikes, an oft-used admonition of his mentor and friend rattling in his brain.

Nodding in grim satisfaction at his find, he too set off towards the spaceport, taking care of cloaking himself properly, after sending a short databurst to the Normandy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Saren Arterius was not having a good day. The spirits-be-damned humans reacted quicker than he hoped and had far more forces stationed on-planet than his sources indicated. Nevertheless, with the firepower of his flagship, it was just a matter of burning the rats out from strongpoint after strongpoint, then taking apart the broken forces.  _ Some soldiers. Turians would never break like that. We did not break on Shanxi, not even when _ ....

Something alerted his senses. A short burst of power on-planet - by no means significant, and definitely not long-lived. Still, better to have it investigated. With a nod and a short transmission, a company of his troops started moving towards the source of the burst. Another alerted his rearguard at the digsite.

The work done, Saren turned towards the humans held before him, drinking in their terror as his cold blue gaze settled on them. The red-headed female was not really important, but the other, the male with the receding hair may have seen something. The Spectre’s left hand closed around the male’s throat, lifting him closer, void-blue gaze boring into muddy brown. Blood started seeping from under the turian’s claws, as microscopic metallic tendrils invaded the human’s body, speeding towards his brain, burrowing into his spine.

The male convulsed, eyes going white, blood running from eyes, mouth, ears, muscles spasming as his brain reacted to Saren’s search for information. The Spectre focused inwards for a fraction of a second, confirming his deduction. No, he did not get anything coherent from the Beacon.  _ Worst case, the idiot humans will consider him an insane wreck. Still, just to be cautious. _

Saren dropped the male, then drew his pistol and fired twice, melting the faces of both humans. Satisfied, he turned towards his ship, when his senses warned him of a minuscule, out-of-place heat-haze.

The Spectre had extremely fine-tuned reflexes, boosted by experience, armor, and implants - thus the shot fired hit his deployed omnishield. The shield held for maybe a fraction of a second, then collapsed. The kinetic barrier was next, the disruptor round bringing it down with a blue crackle before cracking his helmet. Saren was already moving, ducking low, knowing that next round was likely on the way already. He was almost fast enough. The AP round hit his shoulder, breaking his armor, his dermal plates, his shoulder joint.

The Spectre’s troops moved and fired as one, saturating the location of the shooter with mechanical precision, while Saren was moving towards his ship, transmitting orders into his omnitool. The husks fanned out, searching for prey.

Then a third round, fired from higher up, hit Saren’s helmet, and the Spectre collapsed.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Eden Prime, archeological dig site**

Ashley coughs, the smoke overwhelming the filters of her armor; not that the seals are in prime condition any longer. Her hands still hurt, blood dripping from the burnt skin where her fingers clench her rifle. Briefly, she wonders how it could have gone so suddenly from peaceful garrison duty to fighting for survival, then her world dissolves into heat, screams and pain once again, before it goes black.

Her eyes open as her armor does its duty and injects the cocktail of combat stims into her bloodstream.  _ At least that still works. _ A quick look around, to take in her surroundings. The picture is not pretty - their last remaining tank is a smoldering wreck  _ \- at least it took out three walkers - _ , most of the company is dead or too wounded to even stay conscious. Maybe a score of her marines are still fighting, but it is just defiance - though they have cover, they don’t really have anything to counter the huge walker that fried their tank. Luckily, it has taken damage, and anyway, the ROF of its cannon is slow as hell. 

Ashley rolls over, looking for a weapon, anything to shoot with. She spots an M-100 lying nearby, the previous owner an unrecognizable lump of molten flesh and armor. She fights down nausea, grabs the gun, and aims toward the incoming mechs, waiting for a clear shot. 

A huge mech lumbers into view, towering head and shoulders over the basic infantry units, a multi-barreled gun in its hands, a smaller drone hovering at its shoulder that flashes with blue light whenever a nearby mech is hit by her marines. She switches the fire selector, struggles to kneel, her aim steady despite the pain. A press of the trigger sends four grenades towards the hulking mech, then the drum clicks empty, her eyes tracking her shots.

First one, deflected by a red hexagonal barrier that shatters on impact. Second, hits the drone, reducing it to a smoldering wreck. Third, meets and drops the kinetic barrier with a shower of sparks. Fourth, rips away the mech’s right arm, its gun, more than half of its torso. The thing staggers, then falls.

She notices it. The other platforms in the vicinity slow down for a few seconds - she’s not sure if she would have noticed it if not for the hyperawareness of combat and the stims in her blood. Still, it’s enough to make her yell instructions to her men, redirecting their fire.  _ Maybe we can take a few more of them with us. _ A quick check of her HUD confirms that the enemy is barely forty-fifty mechs, only three of them being big hulks. And the walker, whose cannon should be recharged any second now.  _ Yeah, child’s play. _

As the mechs move closer, covering each other with precision fire and those annoying beehive barriers, her HUD displays a short message, and she again barks orders, her marines falling back, no longer trying to bring down enemies but focusing on suppressive fire and survival.

The walker’s cannon starts to glow and crackle with that tell-tale sick green light, and she tenses as the thing’s barrier flares up for a microsecond, then collapses as a blue biotic field surrounds it. The walker starts turning, as do about half the mechs, and she hates but appreciates the speed and precision of their reaction.

Still, the mechs are too slow. The biotic field had not even died down when a rocket explodes against its hull, staggering it. Its cannon fires, the green lightning carving a deep furrow into the ground up the slope, failing to hit anyone up there. Another rocket impact - obviously someone is a very fast hand with the ML-77 up there. A hulk explodes as three grenades impact it, while half-dozen smaller mechs are cut down with precision bursts from the slope. Another hulk falls, a high-powered round exploding the flashlight of its head. The confusion among the mechs is visible, their reaction slows. Not much, but against Alliance marines, it’s more than enough.

Up the slope, figures are loping closer and closer - two small fireteams, advancing with textbook perfect movement, firing and exploding mechs...and with less than textbook precision, a madman dashes down, maglocking his sniper rifle to his back, his oversized handcannon unfolding as he takes aim…

She blinks, as the madman  _ moves _ , gracefully dodging and getting ever closer to the mechs, his barriers flaring with blue light. Another blink, and he’s among the mechs. That oversized cannon booms, and a mech simply vanishes from the chest up. The man’s other hand lights up with the orange glow of an omniblade -  _ seriously, who uses those? _ \- and another mech falls, bisected from shoulder to hip. The N7 operative -  _ holy shit, what’s one of them doing here? _ \- closes with the last hulk.

A beehive barrier stops the shot of the handcannon and checks the operative for maybe a fraction of a second. Enough for the hulk to bring its weapon to bear, and Ashley feels cold, her world slowing down, preparing to witness the death of their would-be rescuer. The N7 spins, impossibly fast, his omniblade cutting apart the hulk’s minigun. A blue flare of a kick to the thing’s chest sends it staggering back, another flash of the omniblade cuts its leg from under it, then the handcannon is pressed to the hulk’s head, a boom…

She realizes the fight, for the moment is over, her battered and bloody marines scrambling to help the wounded. She makes her way towards the N7, who’s talking with a staff lieutenant, probably the commander of the rescueing marines. As she steps closer, they turn as one to regard her, she feels a warm brown and a cold gold-flecked gaze settle on her.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Eden Prime, spaceport**

The rail transport is fast, but offers little cover. Alenko hopes that the attackers - the geth, he reminds himself on Shepard’s impromptu briefing at the tramway station - have not left many forces behind.  _ Not that I can see anything short of those walkers stop Shepard. Seriously, how much hardware do they stick in them when reaching N7? _ He grins, showing teeth, as his mind replays the short and brutal disposal of the geth platoon at the tramway - the geth had absolutely no chance, especially after their cover was demolished by Crosby and Negulesco. Out in the semi-open space, it just took a few sniper shots to kill the hulks, then the two dedicated fireteams simply overwhelmed the remaining few with assault rifles. 

Their car slows, and Alenko focuses ahead, ignoring the distracting view of the lieutenant Shepard insisted on bringing along. 

“Alenko, speed this thing up” Shepard hisses, motioning towards the control panel, his hands going to his rifle. “Marines, get ready.” The operative’s eyes narrow behind his faceplate, checking something, then the Butcher flashes a red, mad grin.

Kaidan fiddles with the controls, taking a few moments to override the safety settings and regulations, accelerating the car toward the station where, as his HUD informs him, at least a dozen geth await. 

“Marines, brace for impact!” Ashley shouts from beside him. The railcar plows into the station, overrunning a geth hulk, and pasting another against the wall. A few marines fall, one of the 212’s survivors groaning as he cradles his broken arm. Ashley nods at another of her marines to stay with the man, and then they are moving, assault rifle fire mowing down the few remaining geth in the station. 

Kaidan’s omnitool chimes, and his blood goes cold as he checks the warning on his HUD.

“Shepard, rad-warning! Marines, check seals!” Amid a chorus of muffled curses and frantic activity, Kaidan sees Shepard check something on his omnitool, the operative’s face going a shade or two paler, blood trickling from the corner of his eye.

“Alenko, take a fireteam, it seems the geth left some presents for us. Locate and disarm them.” Shepard’s voice is calm, even, cold. “Ashley, you and the rest of the marines, with me.”

Kaidan nods, and motions for Corporal Chase to join him. As he starts scanning for the bombs, he just hopes that the corporal’s marines can handle the possible stragglers, and that his own skills are up to the job.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ashley follows Shepard, her rifle covering the blind spots of the operative stalking on point, her brain still processing the double giddiness of being alive, and meeting a full N7 soldier. Then comes a cold dose of realism - she may very well die still, and the N7 in question is the freaking Butcher, who, while definitely effective, is surely a certified madman. A quick check on her marines calms her - battered and bleeding they may be, but all of them are calm and collected, ready for whatever the flashlight-heads have in store for them.

The spaceport buildings seem abandoned - no lifesigns, no bodies, nothing, apart from numerous weird tripods, which she’s sure were not there before. Sure, there are signs of battle, she can see that while the defenders may have been caught by surprise, they did not just lay down and die. The guard posts are partially charred, riddled with mass accelerator fire and impact craters where something solid and heavy hit them. She notes the number of destroyed geth with grim satisfaction, eyes and armor sensors looking for signs where the heavy armor detailed to the spaceport fought, and frowns when she finds none.

Realization hits. Of course there are no signs - apart from the fact that their hangar is a melted, burnt-out ruin, along with the buildings that stood near it. Cold-blooded, overwhelming firepower, applied precisely, effectively.  _ Just like a machine - or a turian. Grandfather told me about similar attacks on Shanxi.  _ Her blood starts to boil with rage.

Shepard signals for stop, scans for something, head tilted as if listening.

“Nihlus, you around?”

“Yes” the flanging voice from above almost causes a rifle barrage, but discipline prevails. Ashley sees a green-eyed spiky bastard perched on a floor above, his bulky powered armor clearly having seen better days - parts of it are melted, and there are numerous holes in it.  _ But...where’s the blood? With an armor shot up that much, he should be bleeding to death. _

Nihlus drops down, a sputtering mass effect field ensuring a painless, if not so impressive landing. 

“Commander, good to see you made it. Captain Anderson informed me that the black ship left the system, apparently without detecting the Normandy. Unfortunately, the person responsible for this atrocity managed to get aboard.”

“The Beacon is still dead ahead, right?” Shepard’s voice gurgles, just a bit. Ashley frowns.  _ That sounded like someone swallowing fluid, but he’s not injured; well, not that injured…  _

“At the landing pad, seems to have been prepared for transport. Our enemy may have decided to rescue his own life rather than attain his apparent objective.” Nihlus’s harmonics drip with hate and anger, and something Ashley can’t quite place - disappointment maybe?  _ Surely not, not even a turian could be that callously dismissive, could he? _

Shepard turns toward the Spectre, his question obvious even though unvoiced.

“Later, commander. I want to get that Beacon and leave before any further complications arise.” It galls Ashley that she has to agree with the turian - the day has been more than exciting enough already. The operative nods, motions forward, taking again point along with the Spectre, who maglocks his rifle and unfolds a shotgun.

The small team stalks forward, sensors and senses tracking for movement, heat, signs of danger. The silence is oppressive, as they reach the landing field of the spaceport, and Ashley’s eyes are drawn to the Beacon across the sizable, corpse-filled plaza.  _ Huh, something seems different, what are those squiggly… _ Then there’s no more time to think, as every motion tracker and detector goes berserk.

Moans fill the plaza, as the corpses shuffle to their feet and charge towards them, eyes and veins glowing with a cold blue light, while rubble is pelting down on the marines as geth unfold from under the wreckage, from within storage crates, the human-sized robots raining fire on them from two directions, along with a hulking brute on each side. Behind the husks, a walker unfolds from behind a burnt-out Mako, and a huge bipedal platform, easily a meter taller than her stands and aims a freaking huge cannon at them, its muzzle glowing with baleful, green light...

The marines scatter as best as they can, one of them cut down in an instant, three others are smeared across the plaza as the green lightning of the cannon hits. The husks are on them, and it’s all a cascade of images across Ashley’s senses, the plaza dissolving into a mayhem of screams, weapon fire, explosions, and blood.

Nihlus’ jetpack flares as the turian speeds toward a hulk above them, evading most of its fire, the smaller geth rounds lighting up then collapsing his barrier, but he’s among them, shotgun booming, making the hulk stagger. The Spectre’s omnitool flashes, and blue lightning crackles over maybe half a dozen geths, frying their circuits, felling them. 

Ashley’s rifle stitches across three husks running at her, a kick snaps the fourth’s leg, a stomp finishes it. A quick burst explodes a geth whose fire almost depletes her barrier. She caves in a husk’s chest with her rifle butt, kicking away another attempting to pin her legs, elbow cracking the skull of the one trying to catch her arm.

A scream of painful rage, then an explosion to her left flings pieces of human and husks around, as one of her marines -  _ Frost, maybe? _ \- drops a grenade at his feet when overwhelmed, and his ammo packs cook off. Another is torn apart after a geth burst takes down his shields. Crowe laughs maniacally as he guns down half a dozen husks trying to get him, then switches aim to the geth above, killing two. The third drops his barrier then slumps as Dietrich shoots it in the head, just to see Crowe go down when a hulk’s green lightning strips away his armor, his flesh, his organs.

Shepard dashes forward, omniblade unfolding, cutting apart husks as he closes with the walker, his smaller pistol spitting bursts of disruptor rounds to crack its shield. The huge geth aims its second burst at him, but the operative manages to evade it, the green lightning vaporizing half-dozen husks. Shepard’s omnitool flares blue, trying to overload the walker’s weakened shield. It crackles, then collapses as another burst of disrupter rounds hits it, the walker’s cannon erupting with green light.

Nihlus kicks down a geth, then again engages his jetpack to evade the hulk’s shot, only for the jetpack to sputter out. Still the Spectre manages to dodge, the shot only vaporizing his left arm. He almost loses it then and there, the shock almost overwhelming his training, his will, implants, and combat stims. Almost. A flick of his clawed finger sets his shotgun’s fire mode, and the gun booms, turning the the hulk into a mess of metallic flakes and vapor from the waist up. A crackle of blue static, and Nihlus fades from the few remaining geth in the vicinity.

Ashley yells, her faceplate cracking as she headbutts the husk holding her down, breaking its face, putting it down, then sending a burst into a geth, shutting it down for good. Dietrich is still behind her, she hears the other woman’s gun firing on full auto, then falls forward as green light flashes behind her, and something tangles her legs. She goes down, turning as she falls, her finger switching the rifle on full auto, and sending a long burst into the hulk that killed Dietrich. The robot’s shields hold up for a second, then another, before collapsing, her shots stitching across its chest and head, putting it down.

Shepard ducks under the walker’s legs, omniblade cutting into it, staggering the colossus. A split-second warning, then he  _ moves _ , rolling out from below the thing as it folds down, trying to crush him. The geth giant is there, and there’s no time to think, to plan, to  _ calculate _ . A mechanical fist catches his side, cracking ribs, his kick crushes the elbow joint. The thing’s cannon flares, the operative’s last-second kick sending the discharge overhead. Shepard’s pistol barks in staccato bursts, shots pinging off the behemoth’s armor. The geth flares blue, and Shepard’s muscles spasm for a second, his pistol falling from his hand as his armor struggles to earth the charge, to keep it from frying him. A kick to the kneejoint staggers the behemoth, long enough for the operative to grab his other gun. The boom of the handcannon is met by the crackle of a beehive barrier, and then Shepard is tottering back as the behemoth’s mangled arm hits him, the robot’s good hand raising its cannon, the muzzle and the underslung blade flaring with green light... then Shepard again  _ moves _ , hoarfrost spreading around them, evaporating in an instant as he rolls to the side, grabbing the discarded pistol, bringing up both guns, and firing at the behemoth’s head, exploding it.

The geth are, again, slowed for maybe a second, one and a half at most. Spunkmeyer hefts his launcher, and sends three rockets into the walker, the mech erupting in flames, before its killer is disarmed by husks, who are then gunned apart by Ashley, Nihlus, and the few surviving marines, who then dispatch the half-dozen geth remaining.

Silence.

Ashley takes stock. Everyone is bleeding, and more than half of her platoon are dead. The Beacon is still there, and she could swear she saw those weird lines move...and when did that loathsome, bonelike thing grow so huge, as if she was standing at its feet...she can almost make out the whispers, discern the shapes within, the iridescent, unnameable colors…

Blue flash, weightlessness, a crash, PAIN…

Nihlus sees the female lieutenant step closer to the Beacon, which seems to pulse with some inner light, the human stepping again closer, as Nihlus opens his mouth to warn her, his hand raising his gun, aiming at her leg...then she’s enfolded in a blue mass effect field, and thrown aside, Shepard lowering his hand, blue eezo-light fading. The operative’s helmet is discarded, Nihlus can see blood trickling down the human’s face and neck, from his eyes, ears, mouth…

Shepard steps closer to the pulsing Beacon, and the bone-white, black-limned column erupts in unnameable colors, the shockwave flinging people away, Shepard hovering in the air, blood streaming from his mouth. The human is saying something, but Nihlus cannot understand the words, the gibberish sounds scratching at the inside of his eyes, his brain, shadows and shapes flitting across the edge of his vision, feels as if something was thinning, close to breaking. The human’s mouth moves, Nihlus cannot hear the sounds, but feels a pressure building, then there’s a flash of molten gold, and Shepard falls, just as the Beacon’s top half explodes.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_ Pain, overwhelming senses, mechanical tendrils burrowing into flesh, seeking, altering, replacing - something is leaking away, cannot be defined, only felt, colors bleaching away, dulling, becoming simpler. Beware them, do not turn to them!  _

_ Metal lives, metal cannot be trusted, metal will betray, metal will CONSUME!!!!! _

_ Slender shapes examine, their voices melodious, protective, transmitting their warning, their intent callous, selfish, calculating - disregarded, discarded. Dreams cannot be trusted, should not be trusted. _

_ Vast presences contemplate with glacial patience, pondering the message of the Different Ones, measuring their worth, their intent, dismissing their clarity, ridiculing the warning.  _

_ The abyss yawns, a black gulf of time, stretching away, so far away, webbed with a crystalline lattice of intent and message. A vortex spreads, incomprehensibly wide, spanning worlds, spanning systems, clusters… _

_ Coldly beautiful, hauntingly melodious, the siren song of creation echoes from the gulf across the vortex, unheeded, as it all ends in fire, immense shapes descending from above, from outside, reaching down, consuming, gorging themselves, closing off something, silencing the melodies, imprisoning the colors… _

Shepard’s training takes over, his senses registering the riot of colors erupting within the Beacon, his mouth forms words in a language forgotten by history, rediscovered in ice, in darkness, in space. He knows what’s coming, knows how to stop it, but the chances are not good.  _ Why did  _ **_she_ ** _ have to be here? Why did they not realize  _ **_what_ ** _ she is earlier? _ Throat raw, he intones the words, unheard by others, shadows flinching away, blood streaming down his face, trickling from his pores. He can feel veins bursting in his lungs and throat, but the training is good, helps him focus his will.  _ Just a few more…. _

And it all ends, in golden fire.

 

* * *

 

##  **Interlude - Career in ruins**

Nova Yekaterinburg was very much not like the places her race typically enjoyed - the dry heat, the dust, the dour (or worse, quite lecherous) humans were not really things that would appeal to typical asari, but Liara T’Soni has resigned herself to be somewhat of an outcast among her kind. To her, Therum itself seemed a cross between an immense playground, paradise, and a smorgasboard of relics waiting to be discovered.

She did not really hope that the University of Serrice would approve her latest funding request - too many of the board took a dim view of the upstart in their circles, challenging the stable, time-honored theories (dare one say, facts) about the venerable Precursors, hiding from any possible retribution behind her birthright and the Matriarch that spawned her. She underestimated them, severely. Her funding request was, as expected, denied - the same as her requests to the Universities of Mannovai and Talis Fia.

Explanations were offered, of course, citing various financial limitations, concerns about access and handling of recovered artifacts, and so forth. Still, the undertone was there, she was no longer welcome in the scientific circles of asari archeologists. Or maybe her mother did something to annoy the opinions of the Republics, and Benezia’s antagonists chose to use her to deliver such a petty retort?

All that speculation was rendered moot when she a small, unremarkable institute on Earth contacted her, promising funds if she’d consider  _ leading  _ an expedition to Therum - a world she always considered working on due to the number of Precursor ruins, but was always discarding due to the rumors of the human companies already pilfering and outright destroying most of those landmarks. 

Liara did not deliberate for long - though she did know only two of the scientists of the team: Amar Vass from Aegohr, and Maran Cal from Talis Fia. The other three were humans, all from Earth itself: Lilian Anfield, Frank Armitage, and Wilhelm Keel. Her quick research found only a few publications of the humans, but hinted at their involvement in Alliance-level work.

Her suspicions about a government sponsorship were confirmed when the expedition assembled on Bekenstein. The amount and quality of sensory, recording, and storage equipment, the financial support for herself and the other scientists, the obvious competence of the rather numerous protection detail - all were well beyond what a small educational institute like the University of Kathmandu could conceivably cover.

Despite some initial misgivings, Liara soon lost herself in the everyday joy of her work, her vocation - and dismissed the snide comments and messages from asari scholars, the crude, predictable offers from the local humans (when she wandered into Nova Yekaterinburg without much of an overt escort). She even, to her amazement, managed to forget the leader of that protective detail.

A part of her brain was intrigued by the man, surely - a very small part, as the man treated the aliens in their group with very thinly-veiled contempt, and the human scientists rated only slightly better manners from the stocky Asiatic (if her research was correct) man. He kept mostly to himself, rarely socializing even with his subordinates, who spoke highly of the man’s skills and achievements, but seemed to share the instinctive dislike and unease the man seemed to exude. At times when Liara had to endure close proximity to him during meetings, the urge to vomit, to shower and scrub herself raw was almost overwhelming. And going by the reactions of her peers, she was not alone.

Liara was very happy when the team moved to Mount Kondratiev, and found that the Precursor (specifically, Prothean) ruins there were still more or less intact, being located in a dormant volcano kept most of the looters away, thus their team was likely to find at least some artifact. They set up camp at the foot of the mountain, spent a few workdays setting up the necessary seismic sensors and other security equipment, discussed how best to approach the complex under the mountain, started digging and shoring up the access tunnels, all under the watchful, unsettling, making-their-skin-crawl gaze of Kai Leng.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They come in the dark, naturally - products of nightmares out of time always do. The proximity alarms blare as the automated turrets start tracking incoming signals, blue-white beams of incandescent light illuminating the closing bipedal mechanoids, slicing through their barriers, leaving twitching, cauterized parts on the ground.

Green lightning arcs answer from the larger mechs, stripping away barriers, armor, metal and flesh, flaying techs and soldiers alike. Lasers track across the rocky vista, melting any attacker slow to react, then explode themselves as the incoming fire overwhelms the barriers of the turrets. The soldiers protecting the camp focus fire on the larger attackers, grenades, rockets, and sniper rifle fire grinding away kinetic and beehive barriers, melting armor, destroying robots. Despite the sudden change from peaceful, routine nighttime to fight for survival, Liara considers their chances better than even - thanks to their unsettling bodyguard.

Confidence is shattered when half-dozen blue-limned brutes slam into the camp, the impacts flinging turret parts and soldiers in the air, breaking bones, stilling turrets, their triumphant howling laughter resonating in the bones of the survivors. Liara screams, blue fire outlining her figure, and the krogan are held fast, for a second, before a disruptor round hits her arm, breaking the bone, flinging her away, the stasis field collapsing with her concentration gone.

Then Kai Leng is among the krogan, his shotgun booming, taking off the head of a brute, a blade shimmering in his right hand - _ extending from his fist? _ -, removing a krogan’s arm along with its shotgun, the reverse stroke bisecting the reptile. The third reacts quickly enough to raise his barrier and shield, wide maw grinning as his huge shotgun is coming up to paste Leng...who ducks impossibly low, the move impossibly fluid, as if the security chief was boneless, then the sword cuts through barrier, shield, and krogan equally, bisecting the figure from groin to head. A fourth erupts in blue light, his biotics crackling, arm outstretched to lift and fling the human away, before an explosion removes his top half, as Leng’s thrown grenade hits him. The fifth charges, the human barely dodging, his answering swordstrike opening the krogan’s chest. The brute’s rageful scream threatens to overwhelm Liara’s ears, as the krogan’s shotgun fires, Leng almost dodging the spike, blood spraying from his side.

He’s at Liara’s side a moment later, the asari shuddering, swallowing back bile as Leng’s left hand closes around her healthy arm, yanking her to her feet, tossing her towards the mountain tunnel. She runs, blue light starting to outline her form as she gathers her power. Leng is behind her when they reach the tunnel, and so are maybe half-dozen guards. Behind and below them, the two krogans and the robots finish the last survivors, some larger walking mechs joining the horde, starting towards them.

Leng smiles, baring teeth, unclasping something from his neck, and Liara’s not the only one who shudders in revulsion, bile rising in her throat.

“Doctor, get inside. If they get past us, you should try your luck with that barrier field. I believe we managed to send out a distress signal before the mechs got the communications building. Go.”

Liara blinks, then moves to take a pistol from a soldier.

“I may be able to help a bit, before...before…”

Leng glances toward the approaching machines, eyes flitting across cover opportunities, measuring distances, calculating angles.

“Fine, stay until they reach that line of boulders. When they get there, you are to go inside, and seal up. Understood, doctor?”

“Yes.”

Leng nods, his men already in cover, weapons tracking future targets.

“Those big-ass walkers will be a problem, Kai.” a soldier notes, his boss nodding in acknowledgement.

Liara’s lips peel back in a sharklike grin, blue light limning her hands, her arms, her whole body, sharper, more incandescent than ever before, her eyes haemorrhaging, blood dripping from her aural cavities as she holds back the power, building it up ever more, then releasing it with a shout and a strike.

Leng’s eyebrow climbs as two of the walkers are lifted up limned in blue, creaking, folding up, smaller and smaller still, explosions erupting from the ever-decreasing mechs, then the asari’s black hole explodes, flinging shards of torn mechs across the approaching robots.

“Not bad for an amateur, Doctor.” he says to the tottering asari, then flings the alien into the tunnel, closing the door with a gesture.

The last Liara hears before she’s swallowed in darkness is Leng’s amplified roar.

“Come on, you fucking weaklings! Show me what passes for fury among your misbegotten kind!”

 


	4. Chapter 4

###  **Citadel, Lower Wards**

Urdnot Wrex felt mildly annoyed as he strode towards the access corridor his current appointment was supposed to be in. Associates of his employer were not usually known for being this stupid, but he mused sometimes there had to be exceptions. Lucky for him - at least such assignments were good for a laugh or two, the pay was good, and there were rarely complications. He felt his lips peel back in a sharklike grin as he saw the loosely-standing group of salarians and turians facing a lone quarian.  _ Well, this is going to be fun. _

Wrex watched the lead turian say something to the quarian, then lean close, pawing at the suit of the smaller alien, who shook of his hand, then warbled something - the krogan’s smile widened, becoming even more predatory as he saw the quarian girl slide something into her palm.  _ Time to go, things are about to get interesting - eh, there’s only eight of them, still, it may be fun. _

The krogan unlimbered his shotgun, his body blurred into blue light as he slammed into the lead turian, the impact pulping the spiky-headed bastard. Wrex’ right hand fired his shotgun point-blank, smearing another turian on the corridor wall as his left hand lit up blue, the mass effect field throwing a salarian into a wall, cartilage and bones crunching, the small alien flopping down lifelessly. The krogan headbutted another salarian, feeling his boneplates crunch the skull of the not-so-nimble thug. His barrier crackled with blue as the remaining turian fired a full burst into it, then a salarian’s omnitool lit his left side on fire. The answering boom of the shotgun obliterated the turian’s upper body, the salarian was not quick enough to dodge when Wrex grabbed him, his fist breaking first the arm, then with a swift motion, the neck.

Wrex stopped for a second, taking stock.  _ Huh, so she can somewhat take care of herself.  _ The remaining two thugs were down - one still twitching, his whole body smoking from the electric charge that fried his armor, his sensors, weapons, and flesh, while the other was slumping down with a knife hilt protruding from his eye. The quarian girl shivered and took a step back as the towering krogan’s growling, menacing laughter seemed to shake the corridor.

“Easy there, little killer, no need to stab me in the eye” - for some reason, this did not seem to console the quarian girl too much. “Didn’t your father teach you not to trust intelligence brokers, and always have backup ready for meetings like this?”

The quarian girl’s posture was dejected, afraid, as she inched away from the scene and the hulking krogan who was methodically rifling through the dead thugs, collecting omnitools, datapads, credit chits. 

“I...I thought...he said that the Broker would...that I would…” the warbling voice sounded just so young. Wrex sighed, motioning the girl closer.

“Yes, I know what that idiot Fist said to you. Consider this” - he motioned at the scene of carnage around them “ both a lesson and an apology on behalf of the Broker. Now, I hear you got some interesting data that may tie into the newest uproar. Come along, quarian, let’s take off before C-Sec gets here.”

“My name’s Tali’Zorah, you oversized turtle “ apparently, her voice was not low enough, as the krogan again gave that deep, booming laugh, as she, somewhat reluctantly, followed the mercenary away from the access corridor, towards the Presidium.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Alliance Embassy**

Ambassador Donnel Udina was not a happy man. He spent too much time verbally sparring with the Council, and usually whenever he seemed to get the upper hand, his superiors from back home came up with something so mind-numbingly insane and shortsighted that it was all he could do to limit the damage. Still, if he was honest with himself, he would not trade it for anything - and his detractors back home would be surprised that it was not only for the money, influence, and spotlight he persisted. No, he felt that he owed the Alliance, to humanity itself that he gave his utmost in furthering their interests. And if sometimes that meant getting into pissing contests with powerful alien diplomats, well, he  _ did  _ get paid well enough for that kind of shit.

“With all due respect Madam Councilor, the data already transmitted is more than enough for a condemnation. Do not even hint at attempting to sweep this under the rug - the pet butcher of the esteemed Councilor Sparatus slipped his leash, and used a fucking geth superdreadnought to melt a human garden world into slag!” the ambassador’s voice rose while his hands fisted. “The casualty numbers are still coming in, but in a worst-case scenario, we are looking at another Shanxi, and again, perpetrated by a turian - and oh yes, not just any turian, but an Arterius to boot!”

“Ambassador, if you are quite finished?” Councilor Valern’s low hiss cut through the building tirade. “ The  _ preliminary  _ databurst we received does indeed paint a dark picture, but it’s by no means conclusive. We will wait for details, and if necessary, take steps to reign in Spectre Arterius.”

“Reign him in? After what he’s done, reign him in? Mark me well, Councilors, the Alliance will…”

“Enough, Ambassador.” the turian Councilor’s voice vibrated with barely suppressed fury. “Once we get the full situation report from Spectre Kryik and the Alliance personnel present,  _ we  _ will take appropriate actions. The Alliance would do well to refrain from threats, especially since the reasons your Butcher was considered for Spectre elevation were the same as for Saren! And it’s not like your  _ pet Butcher _ did not do similar things, to human colonies even.” 

The smooth voice of Councilor Tevos cut through the beginning of a heated retort.

“Ambassador, the data sent is indeed very convincing. Nevertheless, the Alliance will accept that even in such extreme cases, the proper steps must be followed. We have scheduled a hearing where Spectre Kryik and the Eden Prime ground team can present their findings to the Council - and only the Council. If the preliminary data is correct, I should not have to tell you the likely reactions from the general public, both in Council and Alliance space. For the time being, details of the incident” - Udina snorted at the word - ”must remain secret to lessen the generated panic.”

A quick look from Tevos to Sparatus and Valern was answered with small nods.

“Notify your government that the Spectre corps and the Council Navy offer cooperation in handling the geth, and that relief efforts are already being coordinated for the Eden Prime victims. If there is nothing more, then we should adjourn for the time being.”

Udina nodded, broke the connection, and turned towards his guest.

“So, at least they are not denying it. What do you think on their cooperation offer, Admiral?”

The scarred face of his guest settled in a thoughtful frown.

“If the data from the Normandy is accurate, we’ll need them. I can mobilize Fifth Fleet, but I’m afraid that’s all we have for this crisis.” - Admiral Hackett barked a derisive laugh at Udina’s surprised expression. “Surely you do not think that burning a small colony world would convince the Parliament to allocate more forces for the retaliation? Honestly, I’m not sure they would even accept my decision - lucky for us, the Fleet Master agrees with our conclusion, and has given me leave to deal with the geth as I see fit.”

Udina’s omnitool chimed, and he frowned.

“It seems we have some uninvited visitors. Admiral Hackett, do you know a certain Urdnot Rex? According to the security team, he’s got a packet for us...and he’s with an unknown quarian girl - though going by the quality and colors of her suit, she’s likely connected to someone important in the Migrant Fleet.”

“Urdnot  _ W _ rex is a rather prominent krogan warlord, ambassador - and he often works for the Shadow Broker. I think our day is about to get even more interesting.”

A few minutes and security checks later, the two human leaders (and an honour guard of a dozen marines, lead by an N6 operative) welcomed the towering krogan and his diminutive quarian shadow.

“Miss Zorah, Wrex. I understand you have something for us.” Udina gestured for the aliens to sit, Wrex declining with a snort, and going back to grinning hungrily at the marines.

“Yeah, the little spitfire managed to dig out something that may be connected to the fun time your little colony had recently.”

At the inquiring gazes, Tali seemed to shrunk back a second, then rallied.

“The Migrant Fleet Marine detail I was with ran into a geth ship in the Sheol system about two weeks ago. We managed to disable and board it, and then got to work on retrieving data from the memory banks. We needed almost a full week before we managed to reconstruct parts of the data, which included files mentioning Saren Arterius, including some audio. We planned to deliver this data to you, but we were attacked en route by mercenaries, and…”

Wrex put a large hand on Tali’s shoulder.

“Only she got away to the Citadel, and she thought that using a known information dealer with ties to the Broker would get her quicker access to the embassy, and someone in charge.” - seeing Udina’s mouth open, he lifted a hand for interruption. “Do not tell me your guards would have allowed a young quarian entrance - or that we’d be having this conversation if she was alone.” The ambassador’s mouth closed, face turning sour, but he nodded.

“The dealer she went to was likely on the payroll of Saren - or just spectacularly stupid. Anyway, I picked her up, and brought her here.”

Admiral Hackett leaned forward, eyes intent on Tali.

“Miss Zorah, what was in that data?”

The quarian fiddled with her omnitool, and a turian’s flanging voice filled the room.

“Eden Prime will be first step towards victory and retaliation. Getting that Beacon will bring us a step closer to the Conduit.”

Another voice joined in, a smooth, cold, aristocratic contralto. Asari.

“And one step closer to waking He Who Dreams the Void.”

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Council Chambers**

Garrus Vakarian watched as the human delegation headed towards the podium for supplicants, his eyes evaluating the Butcher and his chosen crew. Given that they had, at most, three days ago fought a brutal battle on Eden Prime, the marines looked surprisingly collected, though Garrus noted the signs of weariness and guilt in the female’s posture, whose face seemed somewhat familiar. A quick search on his omnitool yielded an answer that had him shift his posture into an aggressive, pre-pounce stance - and he had to force himself to relax as Ashley Williams walked past him, a floor lower, at the left hand of the Butcher of Torfan himself.

Garrus had scoured the extranet sites for some available information about the battle, and found a surprising amount, even some footage clearly taken via a human soldier’s armorcam. What he saw and pieced together made him want to shake Saren’s hand for a  professionally executed overwhelming strike … and then rip the bastard to pieces for going after the humans while there were so many more worthy targets for attacks like this - Khar’shan for one,  or Omega itself.

Before he could lose himself in happy visions of the immense black ship burning away slaver bases, ships, and the various petty warlords of the Terminus, the chime signaling the beginning of the session was heard. He and Executor Pallin were inside the privacy field, he noted that C-Sec presence was much more visible than usual, and there were markedly more reporters and gawkers in the chambers.  _ Well, nothing like a catastrophe to bring out the experts and pillars of the communities. _

Garrus was surprised to see a krogan and a quarian enter after the humans, his mandibles flickered in amusement as he recognized Wrex, then once more when a green-eyed turian joined the group. 

“The Council is in session.” the cool, neutral tone of the VI sounded, as the three Councilor stepped to their pedestals, and Councilor Tevos spoke.

“After careful deliberation and analysis of the data presented by the Systems Alliance and Spectre Nihlus Kryik, the Council came to the following decisions. Saren Arterius is no longer considered a member of the Citadel Special Tactics and Recon Branch, his rank and privileges removed, any collusion with him is to be considered an act of war against the Citadel Council itself. The Spectre Corps, along with the STG, the Citadel Navy, and C-Sec will take action to bring him and his allies to justice. In light of the numerous grievances the Systems Alliance brought against Saren Arterius, the hunt for the renegade agent will be lead by a representative of the Alliance.”  

“Commander Alexander Shepard, step forward.”

The Butcher marched to the edge of the podium, and Garrus saw the satisfied smile on the human ambassador’s face.

“It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the rights and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Citadel. You are to be considered an instrument of the Council’s will, the galaxy’s first and last line of defense, expected to go above and beyond the call of duty to enforce the safety of the Citadel community. Your dedication to your tasks, determination, and competence were already well-known within the Alliance - now you must use them for the greater good of the galactic peace and stability. Your first assignment is to bring Saren low - using any force necessary.”

Garrus may have imagined it, but he could swear he saw the Butcher’s face twist into a bloodthirsty grin at the last sentence. The public part of the audience concluded, he followed the Executor towards the suite where the turian Councilor had his offices.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Office of Councilor Sparatus**

“Now, I want you to understand something, Shepard. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. If it was up to me, the Hierarchy would hunt down that barefaced, shit-eating, gutless bastard Saren, but I guess that would be too much to ask from the spirits.” - The voice of Councilor Sparatus trembled from barely contained fury, which was not helped by Ambassador Udina’s satisfied smile.

“Councilor, I understand your position, but I believe I have a task that needs doing - and let us not waste time with pointless posturing. Obviously, you have either information I’m expected to act upon, orders that I may or may not accept, or some hoops that I need to jump through before I can start with my new job.” - Shepard rumbled, looking expectantly at the turian behind the screen-studded desk.

“The information we have is being compiled by STG and Spectre agents, and should be ready within a day or so. That should give you enough time to get supplies and establish some communications and chain-of-command guidelines. For the time being, the Council can’t give you much support apart from Spectre-approved small arms, omnitools, and armor. A task force is assembling as your backup, but that will take about a week, at current estimates, as we are pulling back ships and captains who have good record from their Traverse and Terminus deployments.”

“The Alliance finds itself in a similar position - our fleets are stretched thin, and we can’t really give you immediate support. Admirals Hackett and Mikhailovich are scrounging up a few ships for you, but that will take time, limiting you to the Normandy; at least for a week or so.” Udina said, obviously displeased.

“What about ground support? I guess it’s the same in the short run, especially with the limited space on the Normandy. But background support? Intel?”

“Councilor Valern will provide you with access to the findings of the STG team dedicated to the Saren case. Also, your credentials should be enough to access the Spectre network, and keep pace with the other lines of investigation. I suggest you keep in touch with Spectres Kryik and Vasir, as they’ll be working on other, less direct angles of the case.”

“I’ll work on getting you at least a few Intelligence resources from home, Shepard. At the very least, Admiral Hackett promised to get you access to Fifth Fleet’s intelligence.”

“Also, the reason for the ecletic company here is that I want you to consider using, shall we say, informal assets separate from our usual communications and intel gathering channels.” Sparatus stated, motioning towards Wrex, Tali, and Garrus. “Urdnot Wrex is a…”

“I know Wrex, Councilor. Not in person, but I’ve seen his work, and am aware of his file. I can agree with taking him on board - based on what I’ve seen, he’ll be a great asset for the ground team as well.” Shepard said, nodding towards the huge krogan, whose low, sinister chuckle made Tali shiver.

“It seems the Butcher approves of me. How nice. Maybe we’ll arrange for a nice match, Shepard?” 

“Your funeral, Wrex.” the operative smirked, locking gazes with the mercenary, the staredown broken when Wrex snorted, and leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight.

“Now, as for the others. Detective Vakarian may not be a model turian, but he’s a competent marksman and a detective with good instincts for criminal investigations. He can provide you understanding in Saren’s motivations and turian mindset,” - Sparatus glared at Udina, whose derisive chuckle seemed precisely aimed at him. “also, you can use him to access C-Sec databases and the investigation they’re about to launch to map Saren’s financial background.”

“That does sound useful, Councilor, however… Detective Vakarian, let me make it clear: as soon as you step out of line, you endanger the mission or the crew, or try to pull some honorable turian bullshit, I will end you.  If you have problems working with humans, obeying orders from humans - not just me, but all the way on the chain of command, state it now, or shut up. Are we clear?”

Garrus’ mandibles twitched, he half-raised a hand for some kind of gesture, then nodded.

“I may not always like the orders I get, I will tell my opinions and will disagree with you if the situation calls for it, and it does not put the mission at risk. That said, as long as we put a bullet in Saren’s brain and you get some decent dextro food, I’m in, and ready to follow your commands.”

Shepard deliberated for a few moments, saw Sparatus tensely watching in the background, then nodded towards the detective before he turned towards the young quarian.

“And what about you, Miss Zorah? What do you bring to the table, and why would you want to get involved?”

Tali was nervously wringing her hands, as she visibly steeled herself to answer.

“Weeeell, geth are involved, and they are kind of my people’s responsibility, and I know a lot about them, understand the technology, do not forget that us quarians are quite skilled with tech, you’ll definitely need someone able to hack geth tech and I can easily do that and maybe help with ship maintenance, we quarians are good with that and on a small, new ship you probably need someone who can improvise as you may not have enough experts and….”

“Breathe, Miss Zorah. “ Shepard cut in the increasingly frantic speech with a small smile. ”I am not discounting your abilities, but I want to know if you are willing to get involved in groundside operations as well? Shipboard techs I can get from the Alliance as well.”

“I have trained and performed some missions with the Migrant Fleet Marines, Spectre Shepard, and if needed, I am not afraid of getting my hands dirty, and….”

The tirade stopped as Shepard lifted a hand.

“All right, I’ll consider it. Let me ask you one more thing: would the quarians be willing to send ships and intelligence, if requested?”

Tali hesitated, thinking for maybe half a minute.

“I think yes, the Admiralty could be persuaded to share some intel, and maybe even relegate some ships of the Scout Fleet...especially if the Migrant Fleet got access to a somewhat secure location, relatively safe from geth.”

Udina smiled, a parent proud at his child’s achievement.

“Miss Zorah, you just may go far in the Migrant Fleet. I’ll consult with Admiral Hackett, and see if we can come up with something for you.”

Shepard turned towards Sparatus, nodded.

“All right Councilor, I’ll take them onboard. Anything else? Maybe an asari, seeing that they may have an interest in the whole business, what with the second voice on the file. Or a salarian, just to round out the official Council representatives?”

“Funny you should say that, I think Councilor Tevos does have some relevant information for you, Shepard.”

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Citadel Docks, berth of the SSV Normandy**

At Anderson’s signal, the guards stepped away from the three men, leaving them in relative solitude. Udina nodded towards Shepard, who raised his omnitool, typed a few swift commands, then waited for a few seconds before nodding back.

“Shepard, it’s for the best. I need Captain Anderson here as a liaison towards Hackett and the fleet. You should be well aware how differently civilians like me are handled, and the captain can likely bulldoze through where I’d be caught in the red tape.”

“I understand, Ambassador. That does not mean I have to like it. Technically, I am qualified for it, but I do not have the same expertise for fleet actions as the Captain does. And I can’t squeeze that much out from a crew, either.”

“That’s where you might be surprised, Alex. And while it would be nice to put the boot in Saren’s ass directly, the Ambassador is correct, I likely can help you more from here. As for handling the ship - well, it’s not like there’s so much precedent using stealth ships, right? You have a quality crew, use them.” - Anderson’s deep voice resonated in the dock without much effort, Shepard unconsciously shifting to attention as his former CO spoke.

“I trust the equipment arrived, and there were no problems?”

“Well, the armor and small arms from Hahne-Kedar arrived without problems, and the Spectre stocks were also delivered once I got Nihlus to set the quartermaster straight. The Mako’s main laser will need some calibration, though that’s not unusual. Chief Engineer Adams reported the core is stable, ship systems are ok, repair stocks, omnigel tanks and food are topped… All considered, we’re good to go, sir.”

“Where will you start, Alex?” Anderson queried. “The Armstrong Nebula, using Hackett’s fleet as a cover to check the geth outposts there?”

“No, Captain. According to the information presented by Councilor Tevos, and verified via Intelligence, the asari voice was identified as Matriarch Benezia T’Soni. Her daughter, Liara T’Soni is currently at a digsite on Therum, in the Artemis Tau cluster - on an expedition funded by the University of Kathmandu, sirs. I did not have time to read and digest her academic work and interest, but the people at Kathmandu do not fund alien scientists without reason - and they certainly do not get Kai Leng and a band of N-trained soldiers as a security detail.” Shepard checked something on his omnitool, then continued. “Sirs, the digsite has missed two checkins. I do no like the sound of that, and whatever they found, I intend to either secure it, or deny it to Saren - or if needed, to any interested parties.”

Udina paled a bit, and even Anderson looked as if he bit into something sour.

“Wonderful. Shepard, I know that Spectre credentials go a very long way, and N7s have in some way even less limits, but try to handle the situation before a full marine division or an orbital bombardment is needed. We may not be able to get either of those in time.”

“I will do my best, sir. That said, I’d better be off. Captain Anderson. Ambassador.” Shepard saluted to the two men, Anderson returned the salute, Udina nodded. The Spectre about-faced, and marched to his ship.

Less than an hour later, the Normandy was swallowed by the Widow Relay, hopping through the network in the direction of the Artemis Tau cluster, then at flank speed towards Therum.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **Interlude - Burned memories**

Consciousness was slow to return. Sounds came first - light mechanical noises, whispers at the edge of hearing, a constant susurration, the low-level hum of an active drive core. Smells came next - the acerbic tang of burned circuitry, sharp smell of ozone after a lightning strike. Wires and bands binding him to place were next to be sensed, before the recumbent figure opened his eyes.

_ So sharp. So focused. So many details. Too many details. _ Blink. The vista before him appeared in cool hues of blue, with parts of the machinery glowing orange-red. Blink. Emptiness, a dark void, with only parts of his body glowing. Blink. Different parts of his body glowing. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Where was he? Why was he here? Who was he?

His focus turned inward, trying to find reasons, memories,  _ anything _ .

A sharp-featured visage with backswept fringe, showing no facial markings. Feelings of awe and respect, turning darker, more savage, giving way to grief and rage. _ A family member? His sire, maybe? What is a sire, anyway? _

A human face, flat, hard edges, defiantly staring him down - brown eyes boring into his before cold blue light seems to flare within the human’s gaze. Loathing. Anger. Bitter condemnation -  _ for him? for himself? _ \- when he nods to accept something the human says.

Inquisitive green eyes, white facial markings, a younger turian looking at him respectfully, stance conveying attention and eagerness. Scenes of carnage flash by, explosions, broken bodies, exultation at a job well done, pride in someone who can keep up with him, follow in his footsteps. Shimmering heat-haze spotted from the corner of his eye, two flashes, two impacts, pain in his shoulder, arm going numb. A flash to another scene, similar yet different, and he’s moving, too late, his head erupts in white PAIN…

Blue eyes looking at him fondly, conveying warmth, respect, and something he cannot,  _ dares not _ place. The figure - the asari - soothes him, her presence quells the turmoil of his mind, making everything clearer. The face changes, becoming sharper, sterner, ever more ruthless to his distant dismay -  _ aren’t Matriarchs supposed to be unchanging, ageless beings? _

A ship in the dark of the void, an immense leviathan of silent menace, his every step on its decks -  _ within its body? _ \- accompanied by incessant whispers, barely heard, always there. The constant feeling of hunger, impatience barely held back by a will beyond that of the asari, parts of the machinery counselling patience, urging for sleep, to wait for but a short while. The feeling of power suffusing him when he stepped on the bridge, and touched the command throne, a towering will crashing against his, eroding walls, discipline, feelings…

Saren Arterius howled - a bestial rage of fury, loss, and hunger given voice, mechanical undertones mixing into his flanging harmonics.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Matriarch Benezia T’Soni listened to her companion’s awakening, the berserk tantrum he subjected the regeneration chamber to a thing that would have caused her pain, even a short while ago. Now, she considered his state with a cool, clinical detachment, while her fingers scrolled through maps, data requests, lists - her mind and concentration bent towards finding the possible next step in their campaign.

She was still undecided where to go next - the shell company on Noveria has finally produced results, and the experiment was in a state where interrogation was possible. At the same time, their agents located - or rather, were tipped off - an Alliance experiment which unearthed an actual thoi’han, and were in the process of establishing communications with the creature.

She regretted not having access to her daughter, whose expertise and knowledge would serve them well in finding clues, mapping out their steps, locating the patterns and trends buried in the layers of history and data.

_ A small asari, her face scrunched in concentration, digging up the garden. The same child looking up at her with tearful eyes, as she hurries to her - the tears drying up as she laughs, and sits down next to the child. _

_ The same asari, somewhat older, talking to her, hands moving in agitated explanation, blue eyes shining with the wonder of discovery. _

_ The same asari, face sad, distant, as she whispers something, and turns to leave, the Matriarch standing alone as she is immolated in a flash of red light stabbing from the sky, the sheer wrongness of the memory, the intrusive feeling making her scream. _

Flashes of memory, flashes of colors - all drowned out, muted by the cold, void-blue light of the ship, intruding into her thoughts, her mind, her very being. The Matriarch feels the unending hunger, her stomach convulsing with sympathetic cramps, the cool metal under her touch guiding her back to her task, the whispers becoming less intrusive, as the cold seeps into her bones, her brain, her soul.

Matriarch Benezia T’Soni has a task, and she will see it through, no matter the cost. Only a tiny part of her brain, muted behind a barrier, wonders and weeps at the cost, at what she lost, what she will likely lose in the days to come.


	5. Chapter 5

###  **Knossos system, Artemis Tau cluster**

###  **SSV Normandy**

Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreu was trying to get comfortable - not an easy task for someone with his less-than-sturdy bones. The fact that one could cut the tension on board with a knife also did not help - but that, he considered fair price for live-testing their stealth system against geth ships.  _ And hopefully only geth ships this time, if I do not see that black monster again, I can die happy. _

The memories of Eden Prime came involuntarily, the scenes of groundside carnage the black ship was capable of, Anderson’s barked orders, the helpless, nerve-wracking waiting whether the sensors of the enemy ship would notice them and take action…

Joker brought himself back with a shudder, eyes again focusing on his displays. After a short discussion with Pressly and Tali, Shepard opted to bring in the Normandy below the ecliptic, on a slower stealthed course towards Therum, with two recon drones launched to scout the system. The recon data was steadily scrolling across Joker’s display, and he could see that the Ops Alley crew were hard at work, regularly checking and updating their firing solutions.  _ Well, even with a surprise attack, I may have to give the others a demo on why I’m the best damn pilot of the Alliance. Four frigates and a cruiser could give us a run for our money; well, ok, not with me in the pilot seat! _

The pilot’s eyes narrowed at the datastream from a recon drone, and he keyed his comm.

“Commander, one of our little birds has something you might want to take a look at.”

“Be there in two minutes. Have Pressly present as well, Flight Lieutenant.”

“Will do, Commander”.

Pressly arrived first, his datapad displaying the intel they had available from the Alliance databases and their recon drones. Shepard was already suited up, his bulk dwarfing even the tall XO, and Joker felt very small when the Spectre leaned over his chair to check the readouts on the pilot’s screen.

“So Leng’s crew did some damage to their fleet too, eh?” Shepard’s voice was laden with grim amusement.  

“Yes, sir. I estimate that likely a frigate and a cruiser were destroyed by the expedition’s ship, they damaged two frigates slightly - and seemingly, knocked out part of the sensor net of the cruiser.” Pressly’s calm, cold voice summarizing the recon report.

“Is it large enough for us to slip in close?” The headrest of the chair creaked as Shepard’s fingers tightened.

“Yes, sir. We can plot a course, and Joker can definitely do any last-second maneuvering needed in case they spot us.” The pilot struggled to keep his jaw off the floor - _ Pressly openly praising me? Did he hit his head? _

“Get us in close, XO. I would like to get within half nominal range of the main cannon, preferably even closer before firing. Missile spread aimed at the blockade, then the main cannon should be enough to end the geth - provided our pilot is good enough, hmm, Joker?”

“I can do it, sir. I can do it blindfolded, even.” The pilot was surprised for a second when Shepard’s hand squeezed his shoulder carefully. The Spectre nodded at Pressly.

“XO, Flight Lieutenant, I’ll leave you to your job. Plan for two dropsites - the Mako with our marines here” Shepard lit up a mining complex on an overlooking plateau near the excavation, “before doing a run back to orbit, then dropping me and three specialists directly over the digsite at high speed. Would that be a problem, Flight Lieutenant - and consider the possibility of GTS-rated fire from the geth.”

Joker’s hands brought up schematics, barrier data, maneuvering profiles on one of his screens, as he contemplated briefly.

“Yes sir, I can do it. The ground-based fire should not be an issue unless the geth either have our schematics or land a lucky shot.”

“Pressly, tell Adams to have his best man doing DC. Once you dropped us, provide support for the marines. Keep the two drones working, if any geth reinforcements show up, take them out - unless it’s that black ship. In that case, run. Evac the ground forces if possible, but priority in that case is you getting away with the collected data.”

“Yes sir. Good luck.” Pressly noted down something on his datapad, saluted Shepard, and left.

The Normandy spent the next three hours slowly crawling closer to the geth ships, using the asteroid field as cover, with Adams keeping a constant eye on the stealth system and the increasingly-overstressed cooling, while Pressly and Joker monitored the geth sensor grid, carefully navigating through the sweep pattern. A quiet chime sounded in front of Joker, and he felt his palms go sweaty as he clicked his comm for a shipwide announcement.

“All hands, brace for high-speed combat maneuvering.“

“Targets locked, XO, weapons ready.” Specialist Draven managed to almost completely suppress her excitement and fear.

“Weapons free, Specialist! Joker, flank speed! Course….” Pressly’s voice was drowned by the warning klaxons, as a sixth enemy ship appeared on the Normandy’s ladar, heading out from the asteroid field.

The Normandy shuddered as its missile salvo was launched towards the geth fleet in orbit, then the ship surged forward, speeding towards Therum. 

The geth, unsurprisingly, reacted with mechanical precision as they began the evasive dance of counter-missile measures, their ECM systems coming online to batter the human ship with electronic noises, garbage data, false spectres of ship signatures to throw off the incoming missiles. The sheer scale of the effort would have been enough, as the Normandy’s targeting systems would have lost lock after lock, leaving the missiles easy prey for the GARDIAN lasers of the geth ships. However, the systems required a precious second or two to reach full power, and the missiles were not getting their targeting data exclusively from the Normandy, but from the two Hermes drones as well - thus the missile salvo stayed on course.

“Transfer fire control for the main cannon to my console, Talitha.” Joker grinned as his hands flew over the control panels, his ship, his extended self dancing closer and closer to the enemy. The Ops Alley behind him was in controlled chaos, the techs working frantically to keep the targeting data flows running despite the surprisingly -  _ or not, they are machines, after all _ \- efficient ECM, all the while guiding the missiles through the laser defence grid of the geth ships. Pressly barked orders to them, directing the effort, leaving Joker and Adams to squeeze the most from their respective systems. 

Down in engineering, the Tantalus drive core lit up, spinning increasingly faster, as Adams fed more power to both the engines and the main cannon, keeping a careful eye on the diagnostics. Up in the cockpit, Joker’s grin became wolfish, hungry, as an incandescent blue light shot out from the Normandy’s main cannon, the shot hammering into a geth frigate a fraction of a second after the missiles detonated, the dark of the void illuminated by the blue-white crackle of collapsing kinetic barriers.

The geth ships were well-built, powerful vessels with enough firepower to batter the Normandy to chaff in a normal engagement - at closer range, as close to being surprised as AIs can get, they had very little chance. The hole in their sensor grid, which may have been there as a trap intended to lure in would-be attackers was closed too late, after the human operators and targeting computers already managed to guide all six missiles through it. Each frigate was hit once, the warheads strong enough to collapse their barriers, while the somewhat battered cruiser suffered a direct hit to its drive core, the explosion tore apart the cruiser in a swiftly expanding fireball, that incinerated a slow to react frigate.

A second frigate was cut apart by the Normandy’s main cannon, the beam of coherent light evaporating plating, bulkheads, internal systems before it reached and caressed the ship’s drive core, turning it into a ball of plasma.

“Geth cruiser coming in from the asteroid field, bearing…” Joker toned out the Ops Alley voices, as he guided the Normandy weaving through the GARDIAN laser fire, blasting apart the third frigate, the human ship’s kinetic barriers lighting up as the return fire from the last frigate grazed them. Joker’s hands flew across his panels, the ship dancing in response, evading most of the fire from the closer geth ship, and throwing off the target lock of the cruiser approaching from behind them. The pilot grinned, satisfied with the performance, throwing the ship into another sharp evasive turn - directly into the path of an incoming shot.

The Normandy’s kinetic barriers collapsed in a crackling flash of electricity, the energy of the hit enough to make the ship tumble, despite Joker’s lightning-fast course correction - the frigate used the microsecond to aim and practically shear off the outer right engine with a precise shot from its GARDIAN array. The pilot cursed, alarms howled across the ship, as he forced the Normandy into a turn much sharper than any other human vessel was capable of, the groaning, moaning of the stressed hull joining in the crescendo of noise aboard the vessel.

“Come on, baby, don’t fall apart on me!” Joker whispered, his eyes tracking the tactical plot -  _ huh, maybe I should get Talitha something, she’s very good _ \- and fired as the target lock turned green. The shot burned through the last geth frigate, turning it into a cored, drifting husk.

“Joker, slight change of plans.” Shepard’s voice was calm in his comm. “No idea when and if geth reinforcements come in, so I want you to drop us off as we planned.”

“You are aware of the geth cruiser chasing us, sir?”

“Eh, you can ask one of the Ops Alley techs to blindfold you, Flight Lieutenant.” Joker gaped for a moment, then laughed.

“Aye-aye sir, I’ll get you on the ground - and in one piece. Good luck, sir.” The pilot clicked his comm, contacting Engineering.

“Adams, I need all the power you can give me for the engines.” Another click, another channel. “Navigator, plan a flank speed course for insertion, and put it on my screen.”

The Normandy flashed towards Therum, slowly distancing itself from the pursuing geth cruiser.

 

* * *

###  **Therum, E-A Mining Complex T-03**

Kaidan Alenko was worried about a number of things - the orbital battle, the surely incoming geth reinforcements, the situation of Shepard’s team, and not the least his own position. The mining complex did have a good view of the digsite and the camp of the expedition, so his marines could make the approach a sheer hell for the geth - and the machines were coming, he could see that. He thought they were lucky that only a half dozen geth were stationed at the mining complex, likely to monitor the comms and sensor equipment. The flashlight-heads were reduced to scrap by now, and his crew took only a few light wounds - likely due to the fact that Ashley did not hesitate in using the Mako’s lascannon to “flush out” the geth.

His troops were finding cover, digging in as best as they could - he estimated about 10-12 minutes before the incoming geth were in range for small arms fire...meaning that in just a few minutes, the machines would be in effective range of the Mako’s cannon, then Ashley’s sniper rifle. He ducked into the Mako, checked the sensors for a headcount of the incoming geth, then assigned Jenkins and Tanaka to the IFV. After that came the hardest part of every such encounter - waiting and trying to ignore the headache his implant gave him when he gathered his energies.

The staff lieutenant checked his omnitool to see if Tali’s tailored viruses were ready, then started munching an energy bar as a precaution for the undoubtedly excessive biotic usage he’d have to perform soon.

“Geth coming in range, Lieutenant. Wow...there’s a LOT of them, sir.” Tanaka’s voice was even, a craftsman about to begin his work.

“All right. Jenkins, large geth are your priority - do not let those reach the complex, especially the colossi need to be blocked. Ashley, I want you to keep a lookout for their drones - as soon as those appear, deal with them. Negulesco, assist Jenkins as soon as the flashlights are within rocket range.”

Kaidan found satisfaction in the first exploding geth walker - then cursed, as the Mako’s second shot was blocked by a hexagon barrier. His HUD showed an indistinct mass of geth approaching rapidly - scores of drones and small, mobile turrets closing in, fast.  _ No way Ashley could stop them alone. _

“Watch the sky, people, we got incoming! Short, controlled bursts, work in pairs!”

Another explosion sounded, closer than the previous one, as the colossi entered the range of Negulesco’s rocket launcher - their barriers could definitely stop either the rocket or the lascannon, but both of those, aimed at the same walker put it down for good.

Kaidan counted the geth, while he primed his omnitool for an overload charge. The numbers did not make him happy - three colossi, about a dozen Juggernaut and Destroyer types, as well as close to a hundred normal platforms.  _ Well, we definitely will earn our pay today. _

A green flash and the shimmering crackle of the Mako’s shields signalled that the geth were in range - and damn the bastards for being clever enough to deploy a LOT of those annoying hexagonal barriers to cover the colossi while they fired, and used both that fire and the rocky terrain as cover in getting closer. The staff lieutenant’s hand began to glow blue, his body tensed for the gesture to smash a large geth into the ground, as he noticed a small flicker to his left on his HUD, along with a heat-haze shimmer. His reflexes were almost fast enough to dodge the small, limber, off-white geth that jumped on him, the three-fingered hands missing his throat by a few centimeters...then the geth lit up blue, and flew back to crunch against a building.

“Watch for infiltrators!” His shout almost came too late - half dozen geth were among them, decloacking, brawling with his marines. Kaidan’s omnitool flashed, the charge overloading one platform, his Phalanx felling another one. The third tossed Crosby’s body aside, the marine’s grenade launcher in its paws, aiming for the Mako, then the geth slumped, its head blown off by Ashley’s shot. Dubyansky killed another with a long burst before the geth could finish Negulesco - even so, Kaidan could see that the woman’s right arm was broken. The last two geth fell to rifle fire and Kaidan quickly took stock. Crosby and Negulesco were out of action along with Laflamme, leaving him with just five marines, Ashley, and the Mako to stop the geth, who used the distraction of the infiltrators to close into range, their shots pinging off the complex walls, kinetic barriers, the IFV’s armor.

The lieutenant grabbed Negulesco’s rocket launcher, nodded at Draven when he saw the woman taking Crosby’s grenade launcher, then ducked as the geth salvo cratered the complex walls. The Mako’s cannon answered, joined by the IFV’s machine guns, the fire transforming a Colossus into scrap metal.

“Lieutenant, we can’t keep this up much longer, the shields are under forty percent strength.” Jenkins sounded much calmer, colder than before Eden Prime, his voice punctuated by the geth shots peppering the complex.

“Noted, Jenkins. We are staying; you just concentrate on the big bastards.”

The geth fire intensified, the machines were getting ever closer using precise covering fire and those damn hexagon barriers. Ashley did a good job at thinning the geth, as were his marines, but Kaidan still counted around seventy or so smaller platforms, with nine large geth and the two Colossi. The situation was not improved when Tanaka failed to dodge the green lightning of a Colossus, and the Mako’s barrier collapsed, the IFV starting to smoke.  _ Another hit, maybe two, and it’s out of action; damn, the odds are not good. _

A flash of light from orbit, and the geth seemed to falter for a second. Kaidan took a deep breath, tossed the rocket launcher to Lowe, and half-closed his eyes.

“Williams, coordinate for a minute, keep them off me.” The acknowledgement was lost to the blood pounding in his veins, as blue arcs started to crawl along Kaidan’s fingers, up the arms. The lieutenant’s mouth was a bloody grin, blood started to leak from his nose, his ears, his eyes as he gathered every scrap of energy he could, ignoring the pounding in his brain, the red tint of his vision. He was unaware of the explosion as Draven and Lowe managed to take down a Colossus, did not hear the cheer as Jenkins blew up the last walker. He did not see Tanaka fall while crawling out from the burning Mako, did not hear Jenkins as the man howled in agony as his armor burnt from the geth plasma and the IFV’s melting armor. He was barely aware of Dubyansky pulling him further away to another cover as his previous position was riddled with geth pulse rifle fire. His face a mask of blood, body outlined in blue fire, Kaidan Alenko let his power go with a gurgling scream, the geth stopping in a blue flash of discontinuity. Someone was panting and gurgling nearby, and he felt as if his brain was leaking out his ears, his lungs felt filled with fluid, he could hardly breathe.  _ Hold on, concentrate, just a second or two more, give them time, hold them steady, focus… _

Ashley was half-blinded for a microsecond by the blue flare of Kaidan’s power, as her HUD compensated, then she  _ moved _ . She threw Jenkins and Tanaka away from the melting Mako, spared a glance at Kaidan, saw that he was still holding on, then she switched her Indra to full auto and fired. The burst cut apart a Prime, stitched across four smaller platforms, felling them. Draven and Lowe blew apart another Prime and three Destroyers, before switching to their rifles, as Dubyansky and Chase raked the geth line with their rifles. The blue light of biotics dissipated, as Kaidan dropped to the ground, unconscious or dead. The geth were confused again, the stasis and the loss of some larger units slowing them down for a few precious seconds - seconds they did not have, with the marines pouring fire into them, destroying the larger specimens, throwing the machines into another short loop.

Her blood singing in her veins, Ashley laughed as she danced among the remaining geth, her sniper rifle firing bursts of disruptor rounds before overheating. She dropped it, grabbing her Avenger from its maglock, the first burst ending a geth, as she pirouetted between the return fire.  _ So many partners, so much fun, I could definitely get used to this, I haven’t felt this good since Eden Prime, or even earlier… _

“...ma’am, do you hear me?”

Ashley snapped out from her dazed, giddy state and realized a marine - Dubyansky, her mind supplied - was and probably had been talking to her. The geth were scattered wrecks, her own armor scorched in multiple places, her Indra and Avenger unusable with their heatsinks melted from the sustained rate of fire. Lowe was kneeling beside Alenko, the man’s helmet on the ground, his face a mask of blood. The medic was working frantically, injectors hissing as she pumped various stabilizers and stims into Kaidan.

“Is he going to make it, Lowe?”

“If we can get him on the Normandy within an hour or two, Doctor Chakwas has a good chance of putting him back together. Provided, we do not run into more trouble...”

The medic’s voice was interrupted by the tremors they all felt beneath their feet, and from the peak of Mount Kondratiev a plume of smoke rose up.

“You just had to say it, didn’t you Lowe?” Ashley’s voice was sarcastic, as she clicked through her comm channels, finding the one that mattered now. “Normandy, you there?”

Static. The tremors continued, and the plume of smoke was still rising, maybe even getting thicker.

“Normandy, do you copy?” 

“Yes, Williams, we hear you.” Pressly’s voice, static-laden and in pain.

“We need evac, sir, fast. And likely the commander’s team will soon, too - the volcano is starting to act up.”

“On our way.  Joker, what’s our ETA?”

Ashley relaxed a bit, stepping to check the other wounded before sitting down on the partially-melted Mako.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Mount Kondratiev, ruins**

Seeing the expedition camp’s remains did not improve Shepard’s mood, even if he had to agree with Wrex that the security team had been very good - not that he expected otherwise from Kai Leng and his soldiers. The huge krogan had been almost giddy with happiness as they stalked through the ruined camp towards the mountain, his maw twisted into the eager, hungry smile of an apex predator. Garrus was more detached and clinical, his armor sensors and omnitool programs questing for possible survivors, data caches, any storage devices that remained - to no avail. The geth were thorough in destroying the findings and data recovered by the expedition.

The only possible silver lining was that there were traces of asari blood, leading from the camp towards the mountain, into the ruined Prothean complex. Hopefully, T’Soni was still around, and not as a husk, corpse, or abductee. The Spectre was almost sure that his old N7 partner managed to get the doubtlessly “strategically important” asari into safety - and he still wondered what the ruins or T’Soni’s brain contained that merited this much investment from the Alliance.

Shepard quietly chuckled as he thought back on the discussion with Alenko and Pressly on the Normandy, as he told them he’d take only Wrex and Garrus with him. Obviously, the main point of contention was Garrus - nobody dared question the competence or work ethics of Wrex, but the turian, by his mere race, was considered a liability. Still, he managed to convince the others, and he decided he’d treasure their expressions as he told them that this way, there’d be much fewer witnesses if he had to put Garrus down should circumstances demand it. He was somewhat sorry to have left Tali on the Normandy, but Adams was right, the quarian’s experience with ships would be more important than having another specialist on his team - besides, if the geth had something that he, Wrex and Garrus could not handle, the suit-bound quarian would likely be more of a liability than an asset. 

The geth did not neglect leaving sentries around the campsite, but the Normandy’s sensors were good enough to spot them even during the brief pass of the drop, and once spotted, the dozen remaining guards were not really an obstacle.  _ Too easy, even with the bulk of the geth gone to take out Alenko’s team. Wonder when the geth will spring their trap on us. _

He signalled his companions, and the trio entered the tunnels under the volcano. Shepard took point, followed by Wrex, with Garrus bringing up the rear - and the human silently lamented his waning sanity, willingly allowing a competent turian sniper behind him. He focused forward, following the asari bloodtrail, as something pinged on his sensors; a signal, that would likely lead them to the asari, and if he was still alive, to Kai Leng. 

The trio descended further, the roughly shaped stone here and there giving way to off-white, smooth metal, the tunnel ending in a visibly damaged, but serviceable elevator.  Wrex chuckled darkly as they stepped in, checking the setting of his enormous shotgun, muttering about pyjacks and barrels. The elevator deposited them on a ledge overlooking a vast cavern, whose main features were the bullet-riddled storage containers and tents, the trampled, smashed scientific equipment, and the track-mounted, inactive mining laser. The Spectre’s armor sensors detected about two dozen geth - all of them Destroyers or larger ones, and a sizable organic lifeform. In the southern edge of the cavern, facing the mining laser, a shimmering green-white energy field closed off a cylindrical metal tower, and behind the energy field hovered an asari.

Garrus moved off to a better sniping position, while Wrex and Shepard prepared for the charge down, when the sizable organic lumbered into view - and Shepard felt rather than heard the furious rumbling sound of Wrex.  _ Wait, there’s something weird on that krogan’s hump...  _

The krogan lifted his hand to his hump, and threw something metallic away, and Shepard’s eyes went wide for a second as the wave of skin-crawling, vomit-inducing, nauseating  _ wrongness  _ washed over him. Wrex snarled, his maw a rictus of hate, while Garrus swayed, mandibles flaring open. The geth moved into firing positions, and the enemy krogan’s bloodthirsty, insane laughter filled the cavern.

“Come on you little pyjack, show me your fury!” Shepard’s mocking voice was accompanied by a blue flare of a barrier shimmering into existence in front of them, stopping the first geth volley. The krogan’s furious roar seemed to shake the cavern itself, intensifying as Garrus placed two quick shots into a geth Destroyer, putting it down for good. Wrex blurred forward in a blue flash, crashing into a Prime, staggering the huge mech, before he ripped its head off with one hand while his shotgun boomed and turned the Prime’s torso into chunks of unidentifyable parts. A quick gesture of a blue-lit fist ripped apart a Juggernaut, the warp field dissipating along with the machine. 

Shepard strafed right, away from Garrus, his sniper rifle spitting disruptor rounds, wreaking havoc with the geth shields, while the turian switched to explosive rounds that shredded the shieldless geth mechs. The quick double-teaming took down three Destroyers before the geth rallied from the shock of losing a Prime, and then the ledge was saturated with pulse rifle fire. Garrus dodged and ran his way back to the elevator, finding some cover there but not before his shields collapsed under the sustained fire, his omnitool working on preparing a little packet he got from Tali. He ignored the blood dripping from his side and arm as he again raised his rifle, sighting down at another Destroyer.

Shepard jumped downwards, his biotics flaring so he could land without breaking anything, his shields winked out as the geth shots brought it down before he sprinted towards the krogan, his head pounding from the implant-induced stress. A gesture with his omnitool overloaded a Juggernaut, the mech slumping down. The krogan roared as it stamped towards him, and the Spectre could see a deep scar along its chest, while its hump was a biomechanical nightmare, a humanoid shape crudely fused into the beast, cables snaking from it to the krogan’s armor, the nauseating, clammy crawling sensation becoming stronger as he zig-zagged towards the krogan, changing his rifle for his Executioner.

Wrex blurred towards the second Prime, the displaced air booming as he slammed into the mech, then went flying as the back-staggering geth locked a hand around his arm and threw. His shot went wide, cratering the cavern wall as he grunted when the pulse rifle shattered his shields with a blue crackle, ate through his barrier, and bored into his armor. The old krogan could feel the rage and adrenaline rising in response, and with a roar, focused himself again as he threw a warp field at the mech, shredding parts of it, then the second gesture detonated the biotic field, again staggering the Prime before the shotgun boomed again, ripping the thing apart.

Garrus saw the geth platforms hesitate again at the loss of the Prime, and charged out from cover, his rifle shot turning a Juggernaut into scrap metal, before he leapt towards the cavern floor, omnitool flaring as it deployed the finished damping beacon before the geth could fully recover, the small beacon blanketing geth frequencies in the area with contradicting pulses, garbage data, electronic chaff. The turian hissed as he landed and rolled, blood spattering on the ground, his leg buckling when he tried to stand, forcing him to half-stagger, half-crawl towards cover.

Shepard managed to dodge the krogan’s charge, receiving only a hard jab to his side that still was powerful enough to crack both armor and ribs. Up close, the unnatural sensation was almost overwhelming, the Spectre was forced to recall all the focusing tricks and litanies he knew. The krogan turned faster than he thought possible, its Revenant spitting a hail of slugs towards the operative, and he couldn’t dodge it completely, the burst put him off-balance enough for the krogan to move in, and Shepard hissed as the brute grabbed and dislocated his arm , his pistol falling down from numb fingers. The krogan’s maw opened wide in a triumphant grin, then it blinked as Shepard’s other hand blurred towards its maw, omniblade folding out to impale the roof of its mouth, burning through its brain, a biotic-enhanced kick to its stomach sending it stumbling away before it could reflexively bite off the human’s arm. 

Less than a minute later, the cavern was silent again.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Liara was more and more certain that recent events were not simply products of her overstressed, possibly-addled brain. The bizarre trio who managed to massacre the geth limped up the ramp to stand before the barrier curtain, the human stepping up close, putting away a half-eaten energy bar.

“Doctor T’Soni, I presume?” The voice was tired, yet Liara fancied she could discern humor and good mood in the gold-flecked brown eyes. “We came to get you out of here.”

“Thank the Goddess! I didn’t think anyone would come looking for me.“ The human looked as if he wanted to say something, but Liara continued. ”This thing I’m in is a Prothean security device, and I’m afraid I’ll need your help to get out, all right?”

“Shepard, can we trust her? Her mother’s working with Saren, according to the data you showed us.” The turian’s words left her reeling. Her mother doing what, exactly? With whom, exactly?

“You are the detective, Garrus, you tell me. But I’m inclined to trust her, as this” the human gestured towards the cavern floor “looks a bit too costly and elaborate just for the chance of saddling us with a mole.” The turian’s mandibles flexed, then he nodded, and the human turned back towards Liara.

“Well, I’ll definitely want to hear how exactly you got trapped like this, but the more pressing issue is how to get you out of there. Any suggestions?”

“The control panel behind me should be able to switch off the field, if you can get inside the barrier curtain; that’s the tricky part. I can walk you through the necessary commands once you get to the terminal, but the defences cannot be switched off from the outside.” Liara blinked as the krogan barked a deep belly laugh.

“Well, Shepard, there was a toy back down we could use to bypass the curtain.”

“You got a point, Wrex - just hang in there, Doctor, we’ll be back in a minute or two.” 

Liara blinked as they left her, tired mind whirring through possibilities, before her eyes went wide.  _ Surely they can’t mean the mining laser, that requires careful… _

The wide, coherent beam of light illuminated the cavern, stabbing into the bedrock somewhere under Liara’s position. The whole cavern groaned, and dust fell from the ceiling. A minute later she heard an elevator whine behind her, then approaching steps. She turned her head as far as it would go, and spoke.

“Please, get me out of here before more geth arrive, or the whole mountain comes crashing down on us. That button over there….” She trailed off as the human walked up to the console, pressed something on the holographic interface, and she fell forward, whimpering as her wounded arm hit the floor. The human stepped to her, helping her stand up.

“Allow me, Doctor.” The human offered a medigel injector, pointing at her arm. Liara nodded, and sighed as the medigel did its work. “Now, do you have any idea how we can get out here, apart from that entrance?” 

“Well, the elevator you used to get up here should bring us up to the entry level, and with the barrier gone, we can then walk out. Come!” Liara started towards the elevator, slowly at first, her legs still waking up. The sight of what the krogan was carrying made her queasy - a legless, mutilated human body, face hidden behind a mask, the rise and fall of his chest indicating he was still alive. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, trembling, as she recognized the insignia of the two interlocked hexagons, and the small device around his neck. 

“Come, Doctor, we need to get both of you to medical care.” Liara nodded, still staring in dumb horror, moving on autopilot. “Here, drink a bit. Slowly, just sip it.” The water was warm, but after the days of privation, it felt delicious to Liara, and it took all her willpower to sip slowly, instead of guzzling it down. The elevator was moving up, while at first minuscule, then increasingly powerful tremors shook the mountain. The heat was rising.

“Shepard” she blushed at the familiarity of using the human’s name without proper introduction “we should hurry as soon as we arrive up top. You may not have been aware, but this is a volcano, and the mining laser may have stirred it up from dormancy.”

“Agreed, Doctor” the human clicked, switching comm channels in his helm. “Normandy, we need extraction, ASAP.” Liara couldn’t hear the answer, only saw that the man’s face hardened for a second. “Ok, Flight Lieutenant. ETA?”

“If he lets us roast, I’ll eat him.” The krogan -  _ Wrex  _ \- grumbled, flashing his toothy grin.

The elevator finally reached the top level, and by that time, the trembling was very noticeable, the air starting to become suffocating. Liara froze on the platform, as a dozen geth took aim at them, a yellow-colored krogan battlemaster smirking at them from among the geth.

“Surrender! Or don’t, that would be even more fun!” The rumbling voice dripped with bloodlust, as the krogan brandished a familiar, shimmering blade.

“Kill the geth!” And Liara gasped as Shepard  _ moved _ , his hand at her waist, tossing her into cover at a console. Wrex blurred towards the largest, blood-colored geth, a boom of displaced air signaling the charge, followed by another boom as the krogan’s shotgun vaporised the upper half of the mech. Garrus darted to the left, omnitool flashing as a blue arc overloaded the two closest mech, slumping them, then the turian brought up his rifle, a boom, and a fourth geth was down. The yellow krogan roared towards her, and before Liara could bring up her barrier, or react in any way, Shepard again  _ moved _ , the human seemingly teleporting in the krogan’s path. 

Liara tried focusing on her biotics to bring up any biotic trick she knew, but she knew she wouldn’t be fast enough, not with how exhausted she was. The human would be torn apart, his companions overwhelmed, and… Her eyes went wide, as Wrex smeared a geth into a wall with a biotic field, seemingly oblivious of the hits he took from the other machines. Garrus weaved between covers, his shields flickering but seemingly holding, as he switched to a different rifle, and put short bursts into the geths, one after the other. Shepard and the yellow krogan fought a vicious dance, the human bleeding from a number of shallow cuts, his armor dented where the krogan punches hit him, while the brute sported a dozen or more cauterized slashes where the burning omniblade of the human scored a hit. 

The human flashed a blood-stained, hungry grin at the krogan, his eyes behind the bloody faceplate seemed to glow with a golden light. Impossibly, the temperature dropped, making their breaths plume, hoarfrost spiralled out from the two duellers, and Liara only perceived snatches after that. The shimmering blade arcing through the air, trailing blood. The sound of bone crunching, followed by a krogan howl. The shimmering blade in Shepard’s hand, slicing away half the krogan’s skull. A pulse of blue light followed by bone snapping. A whirlwind of golden-orange flame around the krogan. 

From the corner of her eyes, she was aware of the remaining few geth, and released the energy she spent the last seconds building up. With a shout, the familiar singularity formed - not as powerful as earlier when she was attacked, but certainly strong enough to incapacipate mere mechs. Especially since Wrex and Garrus did not just stand and gawk.

Then it ended, and Liara fell forward, the edge of her vision started to go black. Someone grabbed her, and she whimpered as her wounded arm was jostled.

“Come on Doctor, we are leaving!” She looked into a pair of gold-flecked brown eyes, then shuddered as the human’s eyes flashed gold, and they  _ moved _ .

Bruised, battered, bleeding, they made it out to find the Normandy waiting, hovering. Liara felt proud that she could hold out until they were on the ship before fainting.


	6. Interlude - Conversations with Spectres

###  **Citadel, Spectre offices**

Nihlus Kryik was starting to get frustrated - he much preferred direct action to all the admittedly necessary information gathering and skulking around that the hunt for Saren and his cronies so far entailed. In a way, he supposed he envied Shepard; the human was at least in the thick of the action. Still, his work with Tela Vasir and the 3rd Infiltration Regiment of the STG was enjoyable, especially due to the competence and attitude of Captain Kirrahe … and if he was honest with himself, he also enjoyed the company of his asari colleague.

His brooding was interrupted by Tela sashaying into the briefing room, and Nihlus took a second to appreciate how well the armor and movement accentuated the delicious waist of the asari. His mandibles opened in an amused smirk.

“So, you are going undercover with the Consort, Tela?”

“You wish, Nihlus. What’s next, do we hold a turian-style counselling session?” the asari grinned, and looked over the other Spectre with frank appreciation. “You may not have the flexibility, but you might have the advantage of a longer reach.”

The turian chuckled, and offered Tela a mug of coffee, which she accepted with a nod, before settling down, propping her legs up the table - a lioness seemingly at ease, yet he could see the tension in her posture, the readiness to spring into action even here. 

“So, any idea what Kirrahe found?”

“Nothing yet. You know how much he loves showmanship, he definitely wants to impress us. Sometimes I think the spirits replaced parts of his brain with that of a human.”

“Not a turian, Nihlus? Underneath the bravado and speeches, he is very much for rules and the military - just like some Spectres I know.”

The door hissed open again, as two salarians entered. Kirrahe was expected, of course, but his companion was a surprise - neither of the Spectres thought that anything could prise their colleague away from his hunt for an elusive pair of extremely capable thieves.

“Bau, nice to see you.” Tela’s smile was genuine, as was the affection in her voice. Nihlus reflexively stood at attention, and nodded in greeting towards the salarian Spectre.

“I’m honored you spared time for the affair, sir.”

Jodum Bau flashed a quick smile at his two colleagues, then stepped over to get himself an energy drink.

“Was on the Citadel anyway, Spectre Kryik, so not a detour.” The salarian’s eyes turned hard, flat. “Also, whole Saren fiasco deplorable, may even result in revision of Spectre Corps status. Not letting a single black sheep ruin the whole flock. Furthermore, if intel and speculations correct, escalation may become necessary against threat of unprecedented scale.”

“With respect, Bau - do you really consider that there’s merit in the theory presented by the humans, and this whole Voidsleeper mumbo-jumbo?” Tela’s expression was incredulous.

“If humans are wrong, renegade Spectre still dealt with, Alliance gets seat at the table and permanent member within the Spectres, military industry and research spins up. Acceptable, and see no immediate or short-term negative consequences. If humans correct, Council stands by doing nothing, consequences potentially catastrophic. Also, Spectres would be seen as incompetent Blasto parodies. Unacceptable, especially the latter.”

“Did...did you just made a joke? Nihlus, he was joking, right? Tell me you recorded it!” Tela’s eyes were wide in overacted astonishment, her tone halfway between surprise and stifled laughter, then she laughed openly at seeing the turian’s poleaxed expression.

“While Spectre Kryik seems to be incapacitated, I would like to inform Spectre Vasir that per standard procedure, the briefing is being recorded, thus Spectre Bau making a reference to Blasto will definitely be documented. Alas, many of my men - and surely other coworkers - will lose on the betting pool.” Kirrahe was grinning openly, then schooled his expression into military formality when the other salarian turned towards him, and nodded.

“Humorous distractions aside, present your findings, Captain.”

Kirrahe nodded, and handed out datapads, before checking the recordings and encryption of the room. Satisfied, he brought up his omnitool, and the viewscreen lit up. Kirrahe started pacing as he talked.

“We managed to map a considerable percentage of the network Saren Arterius and Benezia T’Soni built before going rogue. In light of Saren’s long and illustrious carreer as well as the usual issues with investigating Matriarchs, I would advise all to assume that important assets have remained unfound. Still, as you can see the two of them control sizable amounts of influence in various companies.”

“Captain Kirrahe, which companies would you consider as standing out from the generic patterns of acquisition?” Nihlus leaned forward, stance and manner distinctly predatory.

“Binary Helix for one. Both Saren and Benezia have invested heavily in it, in fact, they own the company via various strawmen. The company’s stated profile of genetic engineering and biotech does not really fit in line with the other investments of either Saren or Benezia. Also, being located on Noveria increases the suspicion - I would theorize that at least three companies are independently trying to infiltrate the Binary Helix operations on Noveria.”

“I bet at least two of those companies are asari.” Tela chuckled darkly.

“Sucker bet, Tela. Captain, any idea about what exactly Binary Helix is researching on Noveria? Their security forces? External assets and sites?”

“On the datapad, Spectre Kryik. In summary, their security is mostly ERCS troops with standard corporate contract. At least two Blue Sun companies, likely as a quick reaction force, based on Noveria. Intel suggests CAT6 elements as well, also on Noveria.”

“Interesting. Reason for Saren using human ex-military?”

“I theorize it’s more Benezia’s doing, Spectre Bau. Also, it may offer possibilities for them to gain Alliance intel and contacts, and scapegoating the Alliance for mishaps on Noveria.”

The three Spectres perusing their datapads nodded, then Nihlus spoke.

“I believe we just might skip ahead to your assessment on the recent traceable activities of the renegades.”

“Mercenaries with known link to Saren or people on his payroll have been identified hitting supply ships heading towards various known Prothean excavations. Our sources indicate that Saren also approached the Shadow Broker intent on purchasing information about various Prothean and earlier sites, but was soundly rebuffed.” At that, Tela barked a satisfied, darkly amused laughter, that set Nihlus on edge, his instincts warning him of another apex predator nearby. Bau flashed another smile at them.

“Spectre Vasir, situation was handled satisfactorily? No loose ends?”

“Of course, Bau, you know me.” Even the two salarians found the languid stretching of Vasir somewhat distracting.

“Any information on the Broker’s stance?”

“The Broker considers Saren and Benezia a threat to stability, and as such, he indicated that his services will not be available for those two. Of course, that does not exclude members of the Broker’s network trying to strike independent deals with the renegades, but I believe Fist’s example should discourage those ideas.”

“What about Benezia, Captain Kirrahe? Any information on her recent undertakings?”

“Matriarch Benezia sent numerous acolytes, commandoes, and adherents of her clan to procure intelligence sources - specifically, they are targeting researchers of Prothean studies and xenoarcheology. Interestingly, their efforts are not focused on Kahje, Talis Fia, or Mannovai, but on the University of Kathmandu, on Earth.”

“Wasn’t that….” Tela and Nihlus reacted in unison, then the asari yielded with a smile. 

“Wasn’t that the institute that financed Liara T’Soni’s excavation on Therum?”

“Exactly, Spectre Kryik. Our preliminary investigations hint at high-level government involvement, meaning the Alliance uses it as cover for something. I must admit to feeling wary about that institution - we do not have hard evidence, but signs point at their staff being involved in the incidents known as Burning of Irem and Leng Excursion.”

“Spirits below...you went back that far, dug that deep? Why?”

“Nothing concrete, Spectre Kryik. Just a feeling of something ominous. While us salarians were not directly involved, the events on Shanxi and especially their aftereffects have puzzled our scientists for a while. The fact that we still cannot make sense of the so-called Yutani-Yi reactors makes me nervous, and if the individuals involved in developing those things are connected to a likely government-sponsored institute, I get even more nervous. Let us be frank, Spectres. All the Council members have their little dark secrets, and likely this is one for the Alliance, possibly an internal issue for them. But I am not sure how internal it is, especially since Benezia seems to aim at infiltrating or subverting their research by every means short of a direct assault.”

“Captain Kirrahe, is the Alliance aware of Benezia’s maneuvers?”

“Possibly yes, Spectre Bau. If not, they soon will be, once Spectre Shepard gets back from Therum, and interrogates Doctor T’Soni.”

The three Spectres seemingly communicated without words, as longtime comrades usually could before Nihlus nodded to Kirrahe.

“Thank you Captain. Continue with the information gathering, and give my compliments to your people, they are doing a superb job. Also, inform the human ambassador that Spectre Vasir and me would like to see him as soon as possible.”

Kirrahe flashed a quick smile, saluted, and left.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **SSV Normandy**

“Lay it on me, Doctor, you know I love bad news.” 

“The situation is not good, Commander. Negulesco and Crosby should be ready for light duty in a day - and you should keep them off the deployment list for about four more days. Unless you plan to head back to the Citadel or an Alliance medical center, where the bone regenerators are more effective. Laflamme is ready for light duty, should be deployable from tomorrow onwards. Tanaka and Jenkins will both need serious burn treatment if you want them back on their feet. I’m still keeping Kaidan in a coma.” Helen Chakwas took a measure of dark satisfaction of the pain flashing through Shepard’s face as she listed the injuries of the ground team. “Kai Leng is alive, don’t ask me how. I’m keeping him in stasis, but he needs a fully equipped medical facility if he’s to be on duty ever again. And for the record, Commander, that man creeps me out, even while unconscious and without legs.”

“Yeah, he does that. Trust me, Doctor, you haven’t seen the worst effects  _ Leng  _ can have on people.” The operative’s voice was strained, his body language somehow haunted. Helen Chakwas winced inwardly, as she recalled the rumors she heard, the evidence she has seen about N7 training and operations.

“Shipside, the only serious wounded is Felawa, the rest got lucky - a collection of bruises, light concussions. We got really lucky up here. I would recommend keeping the concussed personnel off-duty for 24 hours, but that would leave us with half dozen people running the ship.”

“For some reason, the Citadel seems a more and more likely destination. How is Lieutenant Williams, could you perform the checkup I requested?”

“She is well, Commander - still a bit high on adrenaline perhaps, and blaming herself for the wounded. Otherwise, the brainwave patterns, hormonal levels and cell activity are within the range you indicated as acceptable.” Chakwas saw the Spectre sigh in relief, then he nodded his thanks.

“The specialists?”

“Vakarian and Wrex are fine - especially considering the stunt you pulled. Really, Commander, activating a mining laser within a dormant volcano?”

“Doctor, you know me. It was the quickest way.” The woman nodded with a sad smile. “What about the others?”

“Both me and Adams tried to get Tali off-duty, or even light duty - she suffered a suit rupture, and likely infection, but after getting some tailored immunoboosters and medigel, she went back to her post. Sound like someone you know, Commander?”

“I will talk to her. If I remember correctly, quarians tend to follow the captain’s orders when shipside. Our guest?”

“Doctor T’Soni is stable. Her arm would need a day more under the bone regenerators to fully heal, she needs to rehydrate and eat to replenish what she lost in that stasis trap you told me about. Currently, I put her up back there, in the lab.” Shepard nodded, pleased with Chakwas’ solution - the lab was layered with various protective fields and tech, all triggerable easily from multiple locations...and those defences included biotic suppressors and other, slightly more esoteric measures as well, even if the crew did not know about those.

“Is she lucid? Can we talk to her?”

“Yes, Commander - want me to check on her beforehand? And do you want to do the talk in there, or in the briefing room?”

“The lab would be better, I think - easier to clean up if things get messy.” Chakwas shot an unamused look at Shepard, then raised her eyebrow as the Spectre remained serious. “Come on, Doctor, we both know it may come to me having to put her down for security reasons. I do not think it likely, but with a biotic of her skills, I will not risk the ship. If you haven’t, check the feed from Kai Leng’s armorcam when the geth first attacked them. If she’s fed, rested, and prepared, she just might be able to tear apart the ship with her biotics.”

“I guess you want me to quietly monitor the situation in the lab, and activate the defences in case you are unable to do so.” The operative nodded, then stepped towards the laboratory.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Liara was feeling much better - after being attacked by geth, watching coworkers and people of her expedition killed, becoming trapped in a Prothean security device no less, she considered the quick shower and less-than-fancy food served on the human warship as equal to any luxury she could have had in the best Thessian resorts.

It felt nice to move her arm again without too much pain - the human female, Doctor Chakwas, was very good at her job, and surprisingly knowledgeable about the needs of a recuperating asari. After feeling like an asari again, she took stock of her surroundings - obviously, a relatively well-equipped science lab, which even had storage containers and stasis fields similar to the ones she used on her various digs. A small worktable, with a powered-on terminal was drawing her in, and since she could not remember the doctor forbidding her access, she was soon immersed in her favorite pastime.

She was not surprised that without proper credentials, she could not access certain information, and she did not want to pry - not yet, at any rate. Liara was curious who came to her rescue and why - as well as find out more about what her mother and Saren were doing exactly. 

Liara T’Soni was a trained, professional researcher, an academic with several scientific publications to her name. She knew how unreliable the extranet sources could be, was well aware of the need for not taking everything at face value, to properly contextualize her sources. Even so, she felt appalled and angry at the implications of her mother’s involvement in the Eden Prime tragedy - already the publicly available information was enough to convince her that Detective Garrus had an acceptable reason for his suspicion regarding her. She absentmindedly answered affirmatively to the question she half-heard from the door.

She started, when she heard an amused chuckle from about a step away, and she reflexively stood up, trying to buy distance, the chance to dodge, and she stumbled over the bolted-down chair, as strong arms steadied her, and the human flashed a smile at her.

“Relax, Doctor, you are safe here. I have to say, you look better than last time I saw you.”

She nodded, and leaned on the desk as the human released her, stepping away to avoid crowding her personal space, a small gesture she appreciated.

“Hello, Commander. I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced yet, so I could not properly thank you for the rescue and offer my apology for the injuries and casualties...”

“Doctor T’Soni...Liara. It’s okay, take a deep breath, relax. No need to go all formal on me - unless that’s the way you prefer it. And for the record, I’m Commander Alexander Shepard, Systems Alliance Navy. Pleased to meet you, even in such circumstances.” Liara felt a small shiver as the human used her name, and as she shook the human’s outstretched hand in greeting, it was as if a spark passed over her skin.

“I understand you did not have much time to rest, but seeing as you are already doing some research, I think you can guess why we need to talk.”

“Let me assure you, Commander, I am NOT my mother. She and I haven’t met for decades, and even then, we had very different ideas. Why would she send geth after me? And that’s not even considering that geth are operating outside the Veil...”

“As far as I know, you are considered a very prominent expert on Protheans, especially the collapse of the Prothean civilization.” Liara looked at him surprised - a human soldier, aware of her admittedly earned but very specific area of expertise? The thought and seeming evidence that members of other races might have found her theories and results useful did warm her, and she could not suppress a small, satisfied - and perhaps a bit vindictive -  smile. ”Have you ever encountered something called the Conduit, perhaps in connection with the exctinction of the Protheans?”

Liara’s eyes half-closed, mind spinning through memories, studies, texts, before she shook her head.

“No, or at least I do not remember. Perhaps if you could provide more context, I could find out.” The only answer she got was a bitter chuckle.

“If I could do that, Doctor, I would. Believe me, more context would make my job easier, too.” The bitterness of the voice made Liara flinch, and yet at the same time, a small part of her wanted to reach out to the human.

“If you can give me time, and access to my usual research databases, I think I can provide you an answer, Commander. That way, we can both get what we want - I get to compensate at least a tiny amount for the suffering my mother and Saren caused on Eden Prime, and you get to keep something they want out of their hands.” Shepard looked surprised for a second, then laughed, the sound pleasing Liara.

“So you are not completely naive, Doctor, that is good. Would you be willing to stay onboard as our guest, or would you prefer we drop you off somewhere secure?” 

Liara considered for half a minute.

“I would prefer staying here, Commander. I am aware that I’ll be considered and treated as a security risk, but if your task involves hunting for Prothean artifacts and sites, consider that I spent the past fifty years on digs and research, so I may be able to help. Also, while we are estranged, I may be able to provide you some insight into my mother’s reasoning and perspective.”

The Spectre did not deliberate long before nodding.

“All right Doctor, you make a good argument. But I have to ask - fifty years?” The human’s eyes widened slightly. “How old are you exactly?”

“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m only a hundred and six, Commander. I know most asari consider me as barely more than a child, ignoring my research and theories, but I can assure you...” Her building tirade was cut short by a bitter chuckle from the human.

“Don’t go all vengeful teenager on me, Doctor! I’m more angry with myself - the intel stated that Benezia had only a single daughter, and I assumed that she, eh, you would be around Matron age yourself.” 

Liara blushed, before hesitantly speaking up.

“I was a very late child - while unusual, it is not unheard of for asari Matriarchs to have children. And I suppose it’s both flattering and frightening that a Spectre seems to have a dossier on me and my mother.”

“Eh, just doing our job. Anyway, you mentioned your theories are usually dismissed. Why? I must admit I did not have time to read your publications before we got to Therum from the Citadel, all I got from skimming them is that you are deeply interested in the Prothean exctinction.”

Liara smiled in pleasure - finally a chance to talk about her favorite topic, and to someone who may not discount it out of hand!

“I’m sure you are aware of at least some of the theories out there, Commander. I think you’d appreciate the difficulties in finding evidence to prove or disprove anything, especially since the Protheans, like other Precursors before them, left remarkably little behind - almost as if an external force took great pains to destroy any evidence of their existence. My research led me to the conclusion that this external factor may have been involved in galactic prehistory, long before the Prothean civilization arose. The pattern is subtle, there is precious little direct evidence - but you may consider Commander, that absence of evidence in itself does not mean something is not out there.”

Liara started pacing, her hands gesturing as she spoke, her voice taking on the cadence of a lecturer in front of her students. Shepard leaned back, crossed his arms, an involuntary smile on his face - while his mind was racing down the path the asari outlined, underlined by his experience with the Beacon, and his training. Neither of them were aware of the small drop in temperature, or that the golden flecks in the human’s eyes seemed to faintly light up.

“The galaxy, our civilizations, are built on a cycle of extinction - each race reaches for the stars, dominates for a short while, is violently cast down, and only ruins remain, like on Etamis, Zelene, or Carcosa.” Liara did not seem to notice Shepard’s flinch at that last name.

“Even the Protheans based their greatest achievement, the Citadel, on the knowledge gleaned from their predecessors, just like their mastery of the Relay Network. Can you imagine what would make such an advanced civilization vanish, practically without traces? Those are just a few issues I dedicated myself to find answers for...and perhaps out loud it does sound like a teenager’s foolish fancy. ”

“Well, yes, if the teenager in question has curiosity and drive in spades. For what’s it worth, Doctor, I think it is a much worthier goal than the typical asari maiden’s schtick of exotic dancing and violent gunplay.” 

Liara smiled, and shivered a little - maybe she ought to do something about the heating, before again concentrating on the human.

“And I think I may be able to help you a bit, Doctor. I have it on fairly good authority that the Protheans were indeed wiped out by an external force - and likely so were others before them.”

Liara felt her eyebrows rise incredulously - a human soldier, in possession of such evidence? Her gaze sharpened, focusing on Shepard, studying him as if he were a precious artifact.

“A Beacon. You came into contact with a Prothean Beacon, and managed to extract information from it, while remaining functional.”

“Were it so easy - the Beacon was damaged, and the vision it burned into my brain is not really easy to comprehend, I’ve been trying to sort it out since.”

“Not surprising, Commander - those Beacons were designed to interact with Prothean minds, and even Matriarchs dedicated to studying them are finding it very hard to extract information in usable format. Considering you interacted with a damaged Beacon, I assume the vision was unclear, without focus, without reference point, correct?” The Spectre nodded, his stance betraying interest.

“Frankly, I’m amazed that you managed to salvage something from it at all, Commander. You must be a remarkably strong-willed individual to have survived that contact without your mind fracturing. Fascinating.”

“So, when comes the part where you drag me off to your lab for dissection?” 

“What? No, that’s not what I meant, I wanted to say that I find you an interesting specimen for an in-depth study, and….”

Liara’s blushing tirade was broken by the human’s laughter.

“Relax, Doctor, I was only joking. I guess your time on digs did not lend itself to studying human humor, right?”

Liara smiled and nodded.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me Doctor T’Soni, I should go. Oh, and I’ll see about getting you access to those databases you mentioned.”


	7. Chapter 7

###  **Citadel, Presidium**

Despite the nausea, dizziness, and slight fever she was surely running, Tali felt happy. She and her ship (and thinking  _ that  _ made her pause) defeated a geth flottilla without being pounded into scrap metal. Chief Engineer Adams wrote a recommendation for her that reduced her to a stammering, nervously babbling teenager, as she did basically nothing extra, every decent engineer would have realized the issue with the FBA couplings and gone to fix it, nevermind the possibility of being fried by the drive core pulses. And she was  even more surprised when both Adams and Joker (as the pilot insisted on being called) praised her for the quick emergency cooling she did on the main cannon - it’s not like the other engineers could not spot the pattern in the data, and take preventive action…

Anyway, her back and ribs still somewhat hurt from all the patting and hugs she got from Adams’ crew, and even Shepard, as Captain of the ship had congratulated her (and that gesture made her very happy for having an opaque, combat-specced visor for her helmet) … before he told her in no uncertain terms what he would do to her if she stayed on-station any longer with her suit rupture. Still, she could figure from his tone and body language that it was much more praise and concern than an actual threat, and the official ID patch her suit sported after the events made her feel even more proud.

All in all, Tali felt that humans were not nearly as biased and racist as she learnt - or maybe it was just their professionals who looked at results and efforts first, and did not concern themselves with faces if the standards were met. She could hardly wait to be back on the Migrant Fleet, and try out some things the humans managed to implement, especially with the power routing from the drive core, and the precise focusing of their laser arrays. Of course, the Normandy’s whole heat venting and emissions control could also be useful for implementation, but maybe she ought to focus on the filtration equipment first, she should really ask Adams about it, he seemed so knowledgeable, and always willing to offer advice while not discarding her own ideas, unlike…

“What are you doing here,  _ quarian _ ?” The flanging, cold turian voice so close to her made Tali reflexively shudder, before she looked up from her omnitool towards the three C-Sec officers accosting her. 

”Eh, little suit-rat’s probably drooling over the tech in the Emporium, or maybe trying to figure a way out to get her paws on someone’s credit chit” one of the human officers moved closer, blocking her sight. Tali started to feel really afraid - her companions were close, true, but she had no way to let them know her predicament, and it seemed unlikely they would recognize the official patch denoting her as a crew member of the Normandy.

A huge shape loomed out from the Emporium, behind the three officers, and Tali, unseen behind her visor, smiled. The figure let out a sinister, low laughter that sent a chill down her spine, and she knew it was a friend.

“I suggest you clowns leave the Butcher’s engineer alone, before he smears you all over the Presidium. Or go ahead and try something, I haven’t eaten today, and feel a bit peckish.” Wrex chuckled again, the sound made more ominous as his shotgun unfolded.

“Wrex, old man, don’t make a hassle - you know unsupervised quarians are not allowed on the Presidium.” The turian’s voice dripped with scorn. “And put away that toy gun, before I haul your fat ass before the Duty Officer.”

Tali’s fingers flew over her omnitool, readying the necessary programs to fry these idiots before Wrex actually had to follow up on his threat. The krogan still looked bored, relaxed - but Tali did not forget the armorcam vids she watched about Therum, and shuddered a bit as Wrex again smirked.

“Why don’t you idiots scan her nametag first, hmm? That way, I don’t have to pick my teeth with your bones? Or are you really stupid enough to risk annoying a Spectre, and the Butcher at that?”

The two human officers looked at each other, before one of them ran his omnitool’s search along Tali’s suit tag, and his eyes widened, stance showing his fright.

“Marcus, it is legit...she really is on Spectre Shepard’s crew...” The turian flinched at that, then reluctantly nodded towards Tali, turned to march away, then caught something at the edge of his vision, and went stiff. Following his gaze, Tali could not suppress a vindictive snort, as Shepard was leaning on the wall next to the Emporium. Her heartrate spiked as her Captain stepped closer, eyes on the C-SEC officers - then her eyes widened as she read the Spectre’s stance and bearing, an apex predator itching for fight, circling its prey. 

“Shepard...Commander. We have to be at the Embassy in ten minutes, and the nice officers found here no problem, so why not leave them to their duty?” The Spectre smiled at her words, but that expression would have been more suited to something from the void, preying on unsuspecting victims.

“Your engineer is correct, Spectre Shepard, we were just going, and I’m sure this was just a misunderstanding, and...” The human and Wrex still loomed closer to the C-SEC officers, and Tali was getting increasingly worried, so she did something she never thought to do before. A quick step brought her to Shepard’s side, and her hand reached out for his. The Spectre stiffened at her touch, his eyes turning towards her, chilling Tali to her very core with the mad lust for blood and violence dancing in the gold-flecked gaze of the human. Shepard blinked slowly, eyes filling with warmth, then nodded.

“You got real lucky, officers. You might want to be more careful in the future.”

Tali felt her breath ease as Shepard and Wrex walked with her towards the human embassy, and she tried to puzzle out why the Spectre was looking at her periodically with amusement in his eyes, or why Wrex seemed to be struggling with holding back laughter - weren’t both males on the brink of unnecessary violence just a few minutes ago? Why were they so amused now, why all the grinning above her head when they thought she could not see them? Maybe she should check the Extranet for information on this behavior. She lifted her hands, to open her omnitool, and froze, almost hyperventilating.

“Something the matter, Miss Zorah?” Shepard’s voice was amused, and Wrex snorted, clearly struggling to keep from laughing.

“Shepard. You are...you are holding my hand...” And then she seemingly teleported from between the two males, eyes wide behind her faceplate, heartrate spiking again. “I...that is, we...could you...”

“Relax Tali, breathe.” He had the gall to grin at her, after making her flustered! The nerve of that man!

“Thank you Shepard, for the extremely useful advice, I’m sure you’ll get a medal for it.” For some reason, her vitriolic tone set both Shepard and Wrex off, and they walked on, laughing, while she tried her best to glare at them hard enough to make the two combust. Maybe she should look into that, integrating laser tech into her suit and helmet would make it more combat-efficient, yes, perhaps she should talk with Adams about the power needs, maybe ask Garrus for calibration hints....

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Human Embassy**

“With all due respect, Councilor, my answer is no.” Donnell Udina glared at Councilor Tevos’ projection. “Spectre Shepard assures me that Doctor T’Soni is in no way complicit in Matriarch Benezia’s actions, and frankly, his argument about her possible insertion as a mole being too costly does make sense.”

“Careful, Ambassador. Would you repeat the same facing an asari Justicar?” The voice of the asari was smooth, cool, curious. Udina chuckled.

“Councilor, you do not want to go that way, trust me. What would the other Spectres think if a member of their team was so blatantly undermined by the Council? What do you think the Alliance’s reaction would be if you tried practically abducting a tactical or possibly strategic asset? How would we outsiders consider the asari Matriarchs if you all but confirmed that they simply use even their children as disposable pawns? So spare me the theatrics, Madam Councilor.”

“Very well, ambassador. The Asari Republics and the Citadel Council would both request that the Systems Alliance hands over Liara T’Soni for interrogation on her involvement about the Benezia Incident to the Justicars. Failing that, Spectre Shepard must keep the Council and the Justicars informed on Liara T’Soni’s whereabouts and actions, and arrange for an interrogation session with a Justicar as soon as feasible.”

“Very well, Councilor Tevos, I will inform Spectre Shepard about your request. Have a nice day, Madam Councilor.”

Udina’s professional, bland smile was replaced by a stern glare after the image of the asari faded, and he turned towards his guests. Liara and Tali seemed to wilt and fidget under the glare, while Shepard, Anderson, Hackett and Wrex remained impassive.

“I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble, Ambassador. I stated before to the Commander that I am willing to....”

“Stop right there, Doctor.” Udina’s voice was firm. “I may not like Shepard and soldiers in general, but that does not mean I consider them unqualified morons. If I did not find his arguments at least somewhat convincing, I would have handed you over on a silver platter. But, as I said to Tevos, Shepard’s explanation makes a good amount of sense.”

Wrex snorted.

“A politician with some sense and a spine. Watch out for this one, Shepard, he should go far.” Udina glared at the smirking krogan, then the ambassador turned towards Admiral Hackett, who stood and started pacing.

“I understand the commander’s reasoning, and agree with him, but if the Justicars persist or try to use force, we may not like it. I do not have enough specialists capable of taking on Justicars, especially since I’m assigning my N7 complement to Shepard.” Hackett frowned, thought for a few seconds longer. “And no matter how much I’d like to, I can’t give you more ships, Shepard. Reports from the Armstrong Nebula point at increased geth activity, and I am taking the fleet in to eliminate them.”

“I understand, sir. Who and what can you give me?”

“You will get four additional frigates, a cruiser and a carrier while keeping the Normandy as well. We agreed to give command of the task force to Commodore Anderson. You’ll get Captain Lee Riley’s team of N7s, in addition to the normal Marine forces attached to such task groups. Director Bergman promised you half dozen specialists for the Normandy, they should be arriving tomorrow.” 

“And the ships, sir? When can we leave?” Tali coughed discreetly, and the two men turned towards her.

“Chief Engineer Adams assures you that the Normandy is ready to leave in four hours. The repairs have been completed, shipboard equipment restocked. I forwarded you the relevant lists and reports. Also, Doctor Chakwas reports that the marine complement of the Normandy is ready for duty, with Lieutenant Alenko ready for light duty.” Tali seemed to shrink a bit as Shepard nodded and smiled at her.

“Commodore Anderson” Shepard’s voice was happy “when are your ships ready?”

“Well, Spectre, we will be ready for takeoff tomorrow. My people are checking the inventories, and the embarkation of marines is expected to finish in seven hours. I’ll forward you the relevant information within the hour.”

“Doctor T’Soni, did you get access to those databases you mentioned?” The asari nodded.

“Yes, and by crossreferencing the data with the intelligence reports from Spectres Kryik and Vasir I managed to find a few possible sites worth checking.” Liara smiled, pleased as the three officers and Wrex looked approvingly at her. Udina just nodded, then went over to his comm panel, where a priority incoming message was indicated.

“Care to enlighten us?” The asari triggered her omnitool, typed for a few seconds.

“I forwarded my search results to all of you. In conclusion, I estimate the next likely targets would be Eingana, Binthu, or Feros. Binthu has some Prothean buildings that have been marked for exploration in two months. Eingana is of course a Precursor ship graveyard, and the Exogeni colony on Feros has been running smoothly for about a year.” Liara did not notice the minute wince of Hackett at the mention of Feros. 

“Did you mention Feros, Doctor T’Soni?” the ambassador’s voice was curiously flat, emotionless, his hands holding a datapad, and slightly shaking.

“Yes, I did, the human colony there has...” 

“It has gone dark, after being attacked. They were jammed, their last message just reached us via the network. Here, read.” Udina handed the datapad to Shepard, and both Hackett and Anderson stepped closer to the Spectre after he motioned for them.

Liara would long remember that moment, when the faces of the three hardened military men went ashen, and the datapad cracked in Shepard’s fist.

“Tali, get back to the Normandy. Tell Adams that we take off within the hour. Wrex, go with her - if anyone holds her up, kill them, and let me worry about the consequences. Also, Tali - notify Chakwas to pack as much medigel as she can.” The quarian, frightened, could only nod before she left. Wrex remained for a second longer, waiting for commentary from Udina. When the ambassador nodded towards him, he chuckled, the bloodthirsty sound chilling Liara to her bones.

“Anderson, I need your ships to follow me as soon as feasible.” The newly-minted commodore nodded. “Admiral, if there are any C-type bombardment shells on our ships, I want some of them loaded on the Normandy, and ensure that Anderson’s ships also carry at least a pair each.” Hackett nodded, omnitool lighting up as his fingers raced across the keys. “Also, I’ll need Riley’s N7s, and if Susan’s at Grissom Academy, you might want to alert her too, Admiral - just in case we fail.”

“Ambassador, I’ll send you a report on estimated damages as soon as we’re at Feros. Meanwhile, can I rely on you to handle possible press leaks from Exogeni?” Udina nodded, grimly smiling, before the ambassador frowned, turning towards Liara, and the asari felt her blood freeze at the human’s cold gaze, her body tensed to form a barrier, hurl a singularity, to defend herself.

“What about her? Are you sure she can be trusted, even with this type of information?”

“Sure? No, ambassador, with this type of information none of us are considered fully trustworthy. But I want her there, her insight and knowledge about Protheans may come in handy, not to mention having a biotic who can squash geth colossi with a gesture. Doctor T’Soni...Liara.” Shepard turned towards her, datapad discarded, gold-flecked brown eyes locking on sky-blue. “This is your last chance to step aside. If you want to, the Ambassador can hand you over to your people. I’m not sure that would be worse than what we may encounter on Feros. And if you are coming with us, you’ll need to swear secrecy about the operation.”

Liara hesitated for a fraction of a second before extinguishing her field and nodding, stepping towards the Spectre. Her eyes flicked towards the cracked datapad, curious about what could engender such reactions in these humans. The screen showed only two words, obviously some kind of code.  **_Opera Night_ ** .

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Feros**

Ethan Jeong was not afraid - as the rising young star project manager of ExoGeni, he was terrified. He remembered his assignment to the Feros research colony as a huge success, a path to the Board, or even possibly politics. Now, all those dreams were slowly being eroded by a geth barrage. The observation post shook, its lights flickered as the kinetic barrier finally failed under the sustained bombardment. He still wondered how they could have gotten past all the early warning systems.

Jeong was doing his utmost to tune out the sound of the warning klaxons, the flickering red emergency lights, and focused on the security camera screens, which still worked - and considered why those were left to them, when the geth overwhelmed every other system, the human cyberwarfare defenses unable to keep up with the speed and sheer number of attacks. 

The cameras showed him the black-armored asari approaching among the geth troops, as the huge walking machines spat green lightning at the defensive emplacements, reducing the cannons to melted, ruined wrecks one after the other. His people were trying to get control over the guns, or bring up the secondary kinetic barriers of the emplacements, but the geth were swarming the human systems - why would they even try to beat a race of machines, a race of  _ computers  _ in electronic warfare? 

He flinched as the geth melted their way through the hangar doors, and saw the internal defences melt under a withering barrage of plasma fire. His people were huddling in cover, the mercenaries likely hoping to survive until the geth actually tried entering the complex - that way, perhaps they could at least inflict some damage on them. Even he noted the geth fire becoming more sporadic, and he could see the defenders tense, aiming for the entrance, spoiling for a chance at stopping the machines.

It was not geth that entered. The first lithe, black-armored shape charged through the opening in a blue blur, her shotgun’s roar masked by the boom of displaced air. The guards instinctively focused on her - not long, maybe half a second, or a second at most. That, however, was more than enough for the asari’s companions. The hangar space became a chaos of gunfire, screams, bloodspatter and surges of biotic power. The outcome was unsurprising, though. The defenders were professionals, true, and several of them had served with or even been in combat for the Alliance or the Blue Suns at one point or another. That did not really prepare them to hold off personal retainers of an asari Matriarch - commandoes who had decades or centuries to hone their skills in both direct conflicts and the shadowy wars of assassination.

It took less than a minute, and the hangar was silent again. One of the asari was slightly limping, two or three other sported small dents and nicks on their armor where their barriers failed or they missed dodging a shot. The humans were all dead, and the commandoes made sure of that by shooting each body in the head. Jeong suppressed a shiver at the sight.

“Jeong. Jeong! Hey, Jeong!” His vision blurred, cheek hurting. Who was that woman again? Lizbeth someone-or-other. 

“Yes, Lisbeth?” For some reason, she looked angry at hearing his flat, emotionless voice.

“They will be here in minutes, Jeong. Julia is keeping the internal comms open at the moment, but he says he can’t keep up with the geth hacking for more than a few minutes longer. We got word to Zhu’s Hope, and sent over all our data from the attackers.”

“Yes, Lisbeth.” Why was she telling him these things? Should he care? He will be dead or worse shortly - just when his carreer started to rise.

“The authority codes, Jeong. You have the codes to start the self-destruct process, and...” Her voice was interrupted by the low hissing and bubbling from the direction of the door, and she grabbed him, shoved him towards a terminal. “Set the self-destruct, Ethan, NOW!”

Jeong’s fingers moved slowly over the terminal, and he managed to input half the code before a blue light splattered him over the wall. The observation post remained standing, the fusion reactors below still working, the databanks accessible.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fai Dan swore as the comm line from the ExoGeni outpost went offline. So far, their barriers managed to withstand the geth barrage, though just barely, and thanks to Gavin Hossle’s quick thinking, managed to reach a stalemate against the geth cyberwarfare. Even so, he was fatalistic - the overwhelming force of the geth would surely roll over them...if the containment of the Thorian held, that is. If not, well, he’d certainly wish for the geth to just kill him. His mood was not helped by the constant minute tremors from the Thorian tripping the sensors, or the steadily-strenghtening headache.

“Fai, we have a problem.” Ian Newstead motioned him over. Fai Dan felt his blood chill at the sight. Geth were inside the reactor complex powering the containment. 

“Can you reroute the power needs for the containment to our reactors?”

“You know that’ll essentially kill off our barriers, right?”

“If it comes to that, wouldn’t you rather take the geth than those creeps?”

Newstead nodded, his fingers flying across the haptic screens. The barriers and lights flickered, and for a few seconds, the control room seemed to fill with a heady, pregnant stench, a barely-there fog misted the air… then the sensors indicated that the containment field was back at full strength. Fai Dan nodded at Newstead, and went over to another of his crew.

“Arcelia, any chance for calling in backup?”

“No, Fai, the jamming is still in place - and not just the generic comm freqs, the Alliance and ExoGeni-specific ones as well. I can’t get any response from the comm buoy or the satellites either, and that’s not just the jamming.”

“Wonderful. Why spend all the money on shiny new tech like this, and then it gets taken out by stupid flashlight-headed robots with simple ballistic strikes. Arcelia, remind me to paste the idiot who designed those satellites without military-grade barriers. Also, compile the data we have here and what we got from the ExoGeni crew into a burst packet. Just in case.” Arcelia nodded, started typing. Newstead looked as if he wanted to say something, but Fai Dan shook his head.

“Status of the barriers?”

“Holding at 35%.”

Before Fai Dan could react, the ever-present minute tremors from the Thorian below stilled, and the dark Feros skies were lit by the flash of an overload charge, as the geth redirected the full power of the occupied reactor into the already overtasked colony systems. Systems and VIs flickered and failed as the charge ran amok in the electronic veins of the complex. The barriers dropped, never to be raised again, as a geth barrage blew out the capacitors with pinpoint precision. Security bulkheads slammed closed as the emergency lights cast a bloodred glow over the humans.

“Containment field?” Fai Dan’s voice was tired, resigned. The answer came from below, a deep, triumphant huffing roar felt as much in their bones as in their minds - just before the motion sensors inside the complex went berserk. 

The access corridors leading towards the Thorian were gone, consumed and altered by the creature into a yawning fleshy maw that seemed to devour light, sound, and tore at the minds of the humans. Screams, moans, and insane giggling filled the complex, as the colony members’ minds buckled under the pressure of the Thorian’s presence. Training and built-in protections could help only so much - the sheer overwhelming presence of the incomprehensibly ancient creature drove too many humans over the edge of madness, never to return.

Then, the greenish mock-humans skipped from that abyssal portal, their movements and stance radiating overeager friendliness and need for closeness before they could wrap their spindly arms around the intended victim, leaning in for a grotesque kiss - then vomited a brackish fluid all over the victim’s face and head. Flesh and steel bubbled and melted alike as the fluid rendered the humans digestible for the Thorian. Here and there, gunfire lit up the complex, as the more coherent staff members tried to defend themselves...or spare themselves the agony. Still, all considered, they were the fortunate ones.

The Thorian’s awareness wormed its way around the mindscapes of the still-living humans, its vines probing and prodding at their sanity, their minds, seeking entry and domination. Very few managed to withstand it, or at least keep it together for a short while. Most cracked under the pressure, sanity and soul torn away, swallowed by the creature, leaving only empty husks, only fit for consumption. Then there were those whose will was strong enough to keep a semblance of their self together even under the Thorian’s pressure. These unfortunate ones howled their agony while thrashing and convulsing on the floor, before standing up calmly, relaxedly - with a vibrant green light shining from the vines that seemingly thrashed behind their eyes.

Ian Newstead and Fai Dan stood with their back towards Arcelia, their assault rifles spitting short bursts at any approaching creeper, while the woman worked frantically on finishing the data packet on her terminal. Arcelia shrieked, blood running from her ears, hands clawing for her eyes before she went for her sidearm, aiming at the terminal. Newstead was faster, and put a burst through her skull as he kicked the corpse away from the terminal, before he himself was tossed aside by Fai Dan - and Newstead’s blood chilled as he saw the shining, thrashing vines behind his friend’s eyes.

Ian Newstead knew he was a dead man, but he still went for his rifle, bullets pinging off the floor behind him, slamming into his armor, blood leaking from his wounds. His aim was good enough to burst the Fai Dan-thing’s head before the thing could finish him. Coughing blood, he crawled back to the terminal, using every trick he learned during his N4 training to keep his mind functional enough, sane enough to do his last duty. He did not realize that his eyes and ears were bleeding, or that the tortured, ear-splitting screams and wails stopped. He did not feel the unnaturally heavy, pregnant taste in the air, the stench of an overgrown, cancerous, ever-spawning, ever-multiplying thing. His world was focused on the terminal, and his need to reach it.

His fingers felt slow and clumsy as he composed the message he hoped would punch through the jamming - especially since it should be sent on an unknown, very special channel. A simple, short code phrase that has been used for over a century by certain human forces, becoming widespread among military personnel and xenoform researchers after the Burning of Irem and the Leng Excursion. The phrase always signified blood, madness, and mankind’s struggle agains the uncaring, pitiless whims of fate. A phrase that always before indicated more than mere struggle, more than mere survival. For humanity, survival was not enough.

His lips peeled back in a last, savage, satisfied smile as Ian Newstead, former N4 soldier, slumped over the damaged terminal, that did manage to send the short code phrase with the necessary coordinates and signifiers into the comm network, where the Alliance would surely pick it up.

**_Opera Night_ ** .


	8. Chapter 8

##  **Theseus system, Attican Beta cluster**

###  **SSV Normandy**

Tali’Zorah was worried. The tension on the Normandy was thick, all humans seeming constantly on edge, an undercurrent of tightly-controlled fear present in almost all of them. This, by itself, would not have worried her - no sane person would go into battle without at least some degree of fear. No, her worry was born from how different her crewmates behaved compared to the approach to Therum. Grim determination suppressed the mirth and casualness she came to associate with the crew. Even Adams showed signs of the strain, as he was much more snappish and exacting with his department.

The quarian was also apprehensive about the new bombardment shells the humans rushed on-board, literally minutes before taking off. She of course familiarized herself with the standard and military warning signs humans used, but these shells had unfamiliar markings of them, similar to a flame-centered circle inscribed within a slanted star. For some reason, just looking at the sign and the shells themselves made her skin crawl, and somehow people, colours, everything seemed duller around the things. 

Tali also noticed that the only person who showed more than a brief enthusiasm about the shells was Ashley - sure, Wrex and Garrus displayed some professional curiosity and joy at the likely firepower, but only the female Lieutenant seemed happy about the things. Even Shepard was, at best, grimly accepting towards the shells, and that, more than anything, was enough for her to avoid the things as much as possible.

The young engineer frowned as her diagnostics spotted some irregularities in the drive core - granted, they were stealthed before entering the system, but the readings did not fit into any overload or stress profiles they had on the Tantalus core. She debated calling Adams, then decided against it - the Chief Engineer was sleeping, and she’d rather have him rested and ready when they reached Feros orbit, and possible combat. Her omnitool lit, she checked the duty roster, and sent off a quick alert. Charles Pressly arrived a few minutes later.

“Report, Engineer Tali’Zorah.” 

“The drive core is showing some unusual readings that do not fit in with the current stress levels. Chief Engineer Adams made a standing order that any irregularities have to be reported to him, but seeing as he went off-duty not long ago and the ship would benefit him being rested when in combat I thought that...” Pressly’s cold officer mask cracked with his slight grin.

“You did well, Engineer. Adams would not have minded, but you are correct.” The XO studied the data, then sent a core pattern to Tali from his omnitool. “Continue monitoring the irregularities, and if you even think that they come close to the pattern I just sent you, immediately alert the ship, and shut down the core.”

“But...shutting down the core just like that will leave us...you don’t just shut down a core, sir! You just don’t!”

“Human emergency protocols likely differ from quarian ones, Engineer. That does not mean we do it without reason. You have your orders.” Pressly nodded to her, then marched off.

Tali continued her vigil, attention split between the drive core readings and analyzing the pattern Pressly sent her. She did not understand why, but the more she looked at it, the more she felt it was not a mere core pattern, but more like the heartbeat of a vast, monstrous beast. She shivered and spun as she felt eyes on her - but she was alone, with only the pulsing drive core as company, its cool blue radiance now felt somehow eager, malevolent to her. Tali started humming her favorite song to take her mind off the odd thoughts coursing through her brain, but still she could not fully shake the feeling of  _ something  _ watching her from the Tantalus core. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ashley Williams was excited. She would likely get another chance to kick some alien ass, and prove that the Williams family was still a force to be reckoned with - and what’s even better, she had a real chance to see C-type bombardment in action. Well, hopefully not first-hand, she did not really want to be at ground zero for that - she was not that curious. Still, she was on the ship commanded by the operative who did use C-type shells on aliens without getting crucified by the Alliance leadership.

She was surprised that other marines, other personnel did not find the shells fascinating - then again, she supposed others were not raised by their grandfather’s stories about enacting a Fairfield Protocol. Ashley thought that this time, she would finally get to watch an alien burn for daring to attack humanity, for daring to mess with her, her family, and her marines on Eden Prime. Their voices still came back to her sometimes in the night, urging her to take revenge, to shoulder the blame, to shed blood, to find herself a suitable mate…

Ashley shook her head to clear it, as images and thoughts of Shepard came unbidden but not unwelcome. She did pay close attention to Shepard - of course, who wouldn’t, especially after seeing him in action? The man was a legend, a dark and brutal one, but she knew that a lot of marines like herself would still follow him, as he never asked anything from his men that he himself would not do … and he always got his task done. 

Except perhaps now, she mused. The Shepard of Eden Prime would not have given the time of the day to some alien, nevermind that said alien looked like a woman. She could understand the crew taking the quarian girl under their collective wing - the girl was ridiculously zealous in her work, did not complain, and practically exuded an aura of little sisterness, something she supposed was familiar not just to her. And of course Tali was not related to one of the Eden Prime instigators. 

Seriously, what the hell was Shepard really thinking, letting the asari stay on board? Well, ok, maybe she could understand why he let the blue hussy stay on; he did have a point that if that bitch of a Matriarch wanted her daughter, they would have to deny her. Still, to consider the asari as a member of the crew? An untrained, inexperienced geek? Seriously, was Shepard that suicidal? Or was he trying to impress her, wanting to perform some other dashing rescue, and get close to the asari? Why did he spend time with her, visit her, talk with her? What information did she have that Shepard set aside his planning for?

Ashley scowled, the rifle she was assembling creaking with protest as her hands squeezed it. Surely, she was wrong, an N7 could not be influenced by simple looks - and it’s not like she herself did lack in that department! Was the man perhaps flattered or oblivious at the crush the asari seemed to feel towards him, judging by how she acted around the operative? Could Shepard still remain objective enough to put a bullet in the asari’s head, or her mother’s head if it was necessary?

The lieutenant shook her head, trying to dismiss her thoughts as unworthy, especially considering what she knew about N7s in general and Shepard’s old team in particular, thanks to her upbringing. She again shook her head, took a few deep breaths to focus herself. As Alenko was still restricted to light duty, she guessed that leading the marines would be her task, and that was something for which she needed her full focus. She would not fail, or let her ghosts down. Perhaps she could check the bombardment shells one last time, just to feel that power, that violence-dripping silence they seemed to exude.

Ashley finished her weapon maintenance, then stood and left for the bomb bay. If others noticed the smile she wore or the skipping in her steps, they did not comment on either.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Kaidan Alenko was not happy. He understood all too well why Chakwas wanted him on light duty. Rationally, he understood why Shepard wanted him to remain on the Normandy.  Neither of those things meant he had to like it. His marines would go into battle, and he could, at best, watch. Always a galling thing, especially on an operation such as this promised to be. Still, he would do his duty. He entered Shepard’s cabin and nodded to the Spectre and Pressly, and noted how the XO’s face was even colder than usual.

“Alenko, sit. I have some light reading for you, Pressly already went through it.” Shepard handed him a datapad, and Kaidan began to read it. It was not long, obviously an extract from an encrypted source, but still, it said enough. He only needed a few minutes before his accusing eyes turned towards the operative.

“Sir, that’s...insane is a mild word for it.”

“ExoGeni got results the Alliance needed. And besides, the personnel were all volunteers, the test subjects criminals. No huge loss.”

“Even so, sir - if half the implications are true, then we’d better bombard it from orbit, instead of going down there.” Alenko noted Pressly’s nod, obviously the XO reached similar conclusions.

“The Thorian has something Saren and Benezia wanted. We need to find out what that was, and that’s not something I’d like to try from orbit. Trust me, I don’t like the idea of a combat drop either.” Shepard’s voice was grim. “And there’s a chance we still could reestablish the containment field and deal with the side effects on the ground.”

“Commander, that’s...Shepard, if you are serious about that last part, you might be considered a certified madman. Sir.” Alenko’s eyes widened as he realized he spoke his thoughts aloud. Pressly barked a short laugh, but nodded.

“Alenko’s right, Commander. Then again, N7s are held to a different standard of sanity than us, I think.”

Shepard’s smile was bitter as he answered.

“Still, that’s what we’ll do. Alenko, brief the Marines, they’ll be dropped at the ExoGeno observation post; their objective is to secure the site, power on the reactor, and get the containment field going. They’ll get the Mako, it might be useful for repelling assault, or demolish strongpoints in case the geth dug in.”

“In case, sir? Why wouldn’t they do that? The geth had more than a day to prepare...”

“Think, Alenko. Would the Thorian have allowed them to do that?” Kaidan shook his head. “Ensure that the marines have fully sealed armors, and have them pack extra medigel and omnigel. I recommend having a flamer for each fireteam, but feel free to come up with a loadout yourself. Here’s the relevant data I can give you.”

Kaidan saluted, and started studying the datapad the operative handed to him, while part of his mind was still listening on the conversation.

“Sir, that idea sounds insane, even by N7 standards.” Pressly’s voice was worried.

“I don’t see another choice, XO. You said Moreau is a good enough pilot to pull such a maneuver, and Adams said he managed to modify the lifepod.”

“Yes sir, but Engineer Tali’Zorah found something in the core.” Pressly handed his datapad to Shepard, whose face seemed even bleaker as he read it. 

“Does she know what it may signify?” The XO shook his head. “Good, keep it that way.”

“Who are you taking on-site, Commander?” Kaidan asked. “Based on this data, it seems you want all marines at the outpost.”

“I’ll take Wrex and Liara.”

Pressly and Kaidan shared a look, neither of them wanting to tell their honest opinion on their commanding officer’s sanity.

“I have my reasons, gentlemen - and you have your orders.” The two men saluted, turned to leave, before the Spectre stopped them.

“One more thing. VI, record.” Shepard waited for the affirmative response before continuing. “In the absence of Commanding Officer Alexander Shepard, the following personnel of the SSV Normandy are authorized for conducting operations up to and including C-type bombardment against Feros: Executive Officer Charles Pressly, and Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. The authorization is valid for four hours, counting from the Commanding Officer’s departure. End recording.”

The two officers saluted Shepard, then turned to leave.

“Alenko, a word.” Pressly nodded towards Kaidan, then left. The lieutenant turned towards Shepard, who fiddled with his omnitool.

“I’ll send you some biometrics to monitor. Arrange for at least two reliable marines to have access to this. If the readings deviate from within the indicated range, they are to terminate Lieutenant Ashley Williams with extreme prejudice.”

“Sir...Commander, why, what...” The operative’s face turned into a cold, emotionless mask, but Kaidan fancied he saw a glimpse of regret in Shepard’s eyes.

“You have your orders, Staff Lieutenant. Carry them out.” Kaiden saluted, turned, and left.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Wrex was annoyed. He never liked anyone interrupting his meals, especially not before a promising fight. He stepped into Shepard’s cabin, and loomed over the Spectre.

“What do you want, Shepard? I’m hungry, and you don’t want to interrupt a krogan meal without good reason.” 

“Liara.”

“What about her? Need tips on courting asari?” The huge krogan smirked, and Shepard barked a short laugh.

“Thanks, I’ll manage somehow.” The human’s face went cold, impassive, as he slid a datapad towards Wrex. “What do you think about her abilities?”

The old warlord spent a minute studying the footage and considering his past experiences.

“She has potential. Given time, she’ll be much stronger than your garden variety asari Matriarchs.” The krogan squinted at Shepard. “I can take her, if that’s what you’re asking. So could you, for that matter. What are you after, Butcher?”

“She’ll come with us to Feros.”

Wrex laughed.

“I knew I liked you for a reason, Shepard - you court your females like a krogan.” He enjoyed the poleaxed look on the human’s face before continuing. “I do not know much about this Thorian thing, just what I could quickly find on the Network. What I suspect though is that it’s a nasty customer. Do you really want to take an untrained asari down there? If you need firepower, why not take your other mate with us, Williams or whatever her name is?”

“Liara knows more about the Precursors than anyone I could get here in time. She has a serious biotic potential. Both will likely be useful down on Feros.” Wrex nodded, looking thoughtful.

“You might have a point there, Shepard. Anyway, that’s still something that your marines could tell you. Out with it, Butcher.”

“How much do you and the Broker know about what us N7s do at times? How much do you know about Opera Night?”

Wrex laughed, the sound low, ominous.

“I’m not sure how much the Broker knows. I have seen reports, I checked about from where your little group descended from. I have seen and killed things that not even you have met - remember, little human, that I already warred among the stars while your kind still fought with sticks and swords. Do not think that you humans are the only ones who know about the darkness beyond the void, and what lairs there. Do not believe that your struggle on that insignificant speck of a planet you call your home is unique or special!” Blue light outlined the fists of the krogan, biotic flames creeping up his arms, his eyes glaring balefully at the Spectre. “I have fought rachni. I fought what you monkeys call the descendants of the many-angled ones. I’m still here. They are not.”

Shepard opened his mouth, closed it, and simply nodded, before standing.

“Can I consider you part of my krantt, Warlord Urdnot Wrex? For this battle, if not longer?”

The old krogan’s face twisted into a painful grimace, his eyes closing for a second, then he nodded.

“You can, Shepard.” The human’s posture relaxed, before handing a datapad to the krogan

“Here’s what I could piece together about the Thorian, and how I plan to do the insertion. I’ll see you at the pod, Wrex.”

The krogan skimmed through the datapad as he left, and the mess hall echoed his deep laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Feros**

“By the Goddess, Commander...I’m sorry, but are you insane?” Liara’s peace of mind was not helped by the krogan’s booming laughter, or the annoying raised eyebrow of the human.

“Depends on your definition, Doctor.”

“This is not a joking matter, Commander! Your plan is insane, reckless, ill-considered, irresponsible, and...and insane!”

“Which part, Doctor T’Soni?” The human and krogan sharing a grin made Liara growl.

“The whole lunatic idea of shooting a modified lifepod as a makeshift mass accelerator round at a Precursor from orbit! And instead of taking one of your marines, you plan on taking me, an archeologist! Do you plan on me distracting the thing with a lecture on Protheans, Commander?” The asari’s voice was rising, and blue motes of biotic energy sparked alongside her arms.

“Don’t worry, princess. The human’s just courting you, krogan style.” A crash signalled Shepard falling down from where he was leaning against the wall. Liara’s mouth hung open, her mind trying to decide whether to blush or to splatter the old krogan all over the bulkhead.

“Wrex, I swear to God if you make another remark like that, I’ll strangle you with your own tongue.” Shepard’s warning was somewhat undermined by how he was trying to get up from the floor.

“Eh, she stopped, didn’t she?” Just for that smug tone, Liara wanted to hurl a singularity at the krogan to see him flail and float.

“Doctor T’Soni...Liara.” She blinked, as Shepard’s hand gently closed around her raised, blue-lit wrist, pushing it down. “You are right, the plan is insane, and more than likely, so am I. Still, we need to go down there, and I’m afraid it has to be us three.”

Liara shivered a bit at the human’s touch, the emotion in his voice. It was not an unpleasant feeling. She focused on Shepard, trying to recall her mother’s lessons on gauging the sincerity of another person. Admittedly, she did not have much experience in that area, even less with humans - but the quiet intensity of the operative’s voice sounded convincing. The fact that Wrex also seemed serious helped. The human went on speaking.

“Liara, we need your knowledge down there. Wrex and I have both experience with similar situations, and I’m sure you are aware of some of the dangers one in your profession may face. Trust me, I’d like to leave you up here, safely - but chances are you can spot something we are not familiar with. And if you did survive decades while travelling from excavation to excavation, you are not a pushover, believe me.” The human grinned. “Hell, after Therum, anyone thinking you cannot take care of yourself is an idiot.”

Liara’s focus was torn from Shepard as she became aware of Wrex again when the krogan’s bloodthirsty chuckle echoed in the briefing room. She could feel herself blushing; fortunately, neither of her companions mentioned it. The asari took a deep breath and nodded at Shepard.

“All right, let’s do it, Commander.”

“Glad to have you on board for this, Doctor.” She guessed she was not supposed to hear the man murmuring something about an elevator to hell, going down.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In other circumstances, Liara would have been ecstatic to set foot on a Prothean world, nevermind a world which was home of an even older creature. Feros and the Thorian however, made her feel only revulsion. Already when climbing in the lifepod, she could feel the wrongness reported by the dispassionate sensors - the unnatural, ever-spreading circle of life seemed to pulse behind her eyes, pressing on her mind, her soul, foreign concepts and ideas flitting on the edge of her consciousness, her body experiencing... _ urges _ . She guessed Shepard felt something as well, his eyes closed, lips mouthing some kind of mantra as he meditated … while on the opposite side, the old krogan warlord still snored fiercely, the sound echoing in the tight confines of the lifepod. Liara envied both of them for their apparent calmness. She was not a commando, or a huntress, nevermind an Eclipse sister, to feel calm or joy in battle! Her passion was in unearthing and understanding the past, uncovering the giants on whose shoulders the galactic civilization could stand on…

The lifepod was heating up, as it hurtled towards Zhu’s Hope and the Thorian, trailing flames in its wake. Liara’s eyes widened, her mind reeling as both Shepard and Wrex sat up straight, the krogan’s hand going for his gun, the human grabbing some trinket at his side.

“You...you felt it too, right? The...invitation?” She blushed, unwilling to fully voice the images evoked in her brain by the Thorian’s message. Her companions nodded, Shepard smiling at her sadly.

“So, Shepard - are we walking into the trap?” Wrex’s grin would have made any apex predator shiver and slink away. The human nodded, and Liara thought his answering grin radiated almost the same bloodlust as the old krogan’s. The sight made her shiver.

“So am I the only one who has doubts about walking into a trap like this?”

“Relax, T’Soni. We knew that the Thorian would spot us eventually - this way, it may be curious enough not to attack us immediately. And if it lets us close enough...” The krogan’s low, menacing chuckle finished the sentence, as the lifepod’s mass effect field kicked in, slowing their descent to a survivable level. A minute later, the lifepod crashed on the surface of Feros.

Wrex stepped out first, followed by Shepard and Liara. The krogan’s stance was alert, and Liara could feel the subtle pulsing of his readied biotics - and her respect for the old warlord went up a notch, as even her mother would have had to concentrate hard to ready that much power without her corona betraying her. Shepard was also tense, and seemed to emanate a slight chill, a welcome effect in the oppressive heat of the colony.

Well, she supposed it was not a colony any longer. The buildings were covered in a pinkish-green organic material, the sounds coming from them disturbingly similar to what she heard from sentients digesting food. Vine-like veiny appendages crisscrossed the ground, which itself felt disturbingly soft, fleshy,  _ alive _ . Her body shuddered, as the same urges she felt during the descent came back, stronger, forcing her to actually concentrate on getting herself back under control. She could see Wrex tensing for a second, a deep growl sounding in her comm as the krogan brought himself back under control. Shepard took a step towards her, hand half-raised, before his eyes narrowed, his head turning towards the gaping maw of a descending tunnel - blood vessel? nerve?  _ digestive tract _ ? - with the slow, menacing precision of a traversing cannon.

He glared at the passage, his mouth moving beneath the helmet, but Liara could hear nothing - then she felt the pressure, the urges receding a bit, becoming nothing more than a background note. The whole colony shuddered slightly, fetid vapors emanating from numerous orifices, and her audio receptors picked up moaning, groaning sounds. The trio descended into the dank, eerily-lit depths of the Thorian.

The walls of the tunnel pulsed with a steady beat, emanating a soft, greenish glow. Indistinct shapes writhed and protruded from the organic morass, reaching for them, pushing out from the flatter surfaces or the tumorlike, bulbous protrusions dotting the surfaces of the tunnel. Liara found herself sidling closer to Wrex and Shepard, her senses and sensors almost overflowing with the abundance of life, a veritable overload of fecundity. In other places, other times, she would certainly examined the walls, the protrusions more closely, if only to be certain what exactly they were made of. She would have pondered on how this organic mass could have consumed a whole colony basically overnight, without any trace of the previous occupants. She would have relished the chance to interact with something even more ancient than the Protheans she considered one of the pinnacles of galactic prehistory. But there and then it was all she could do to keep from vomiting, control her nausea, and avoid indiscriminately lashing out with her biotics.

The deep, rhytmic, huffing sound, the drumlike beat was becoming stronger, along with the fetid, overwhelming stench of the organic mass of the Thorian. The trio reached a ledge overlooking a deep fissure, and the pressure on Liara’s mind felt almost crushing, as the overwhelming, alien,  _ old  _ presence of the chamber’s inhabitant washed over them. The thing hung slightly higher than them, anchored to the fissure’s walls by numerous thick vinelike growths, while another, even bulkier vine reached down to the lightless depths of the fissure, presumably connecting to the main mass of the Thorian. Half-consumed or half-formed shapes moved around the chamber, moaning as they consumed and were consumed by the creature. The main mass - head? brain? - in the chamber was sprouting a beaklike growth towards them, the maw opening, the stench of rotten meat and plant matter wafting from it. A curtain of tentacles spiralled out, mucus pooling beneath them, as the huffing, retching sound intensified.

“We might need a bigger gun, Shepard.” Liara stared at Wrex, jaw hanging open at the nonchalance in the krogan’s voice.

A lithe form dropped to the ledge from the mass of tentacles, the shape distinctly humanoid, female,  _ asari _ . Liara’s eyes widened as she recognized her, despite the greenish skin.

“Shiala?”

The green asari’s eyes opened, and Liara felt revulsion as she saw the luminous green vines writhe behind her childhood mentor’s eyes. The thing’s voice was resonating strangely, the sounds scratching at their minds and ears alike.

“Shiala no longer. You stand before and within us. You offered bargain to the Old Growth, human.” Wrex and Liara glanced at Shepard simultaneously, saw the operative’s eyes narrow. “You broke that bargain when you cut us off from ourself. You failed to protect ourself from the machines. We saw no reason not to bargain with them.”

“Machines? The geth were here?”

“Machines and pretenders came before us, led by a Mother of her race.” The Shiala-thing gestured towards Liara. “She sought information, gave us back to ourself in return. What can you give me to match that, and to convince me not to consume you where you stand?”

The thing’s voice was rising, and in response, the chamber’s walls pulsed, moved, shapes pushing through the organic mass, creatures emerging, their forms a mockery of humans, green-skinned, grotesque parodies. 

“Your continued existence.” Shepard’s voice was flat, certain, cold, golden sparks danced beneath his visor. Wrex chuckled, the sound low and ominous, as Liara tensed, ready to shield them, to lash out.

Insane giggling from the creepers provided a counterpoint to the Shiala-thing’s booming laughter - then all was drowned out in the roar of a shotgun, as Wrex blasted off the Shiala-thing’s head and chest. The central mass of the Thorian trembled, a keening moan echoing around the fissure, the creepers staggering for a second. Liara’s biotics flared in a blinding blue light, as she dropped to one knee and formed a shield-dome with a gesture, just in time to repel the greenish biotic field slamming into it. 

She screamed then, as the Thorian ceased holding back its presence, the mind-ocean of the Precursor flooding her senses, trying to enter her mind, make her its own, and she understood why Benezia came here, what was the likely fate of Shiala, and what the thing wanted with them. Despair, terror, hope warred within her, urging surrender, projecting the glories of being a mother, a progenitor of the new breed, a fountainhead of discoveries. Liara wasn’t aware of her eyes swirling with darkness, the blood dripping from her aural cavities and the corners of her eyes. Her barrier wavered, contracted, the creepers edging closer, giggling, reaching for her, she felt as if worms were burrowing beneath her skin, inside her mind. With a shriek of rage and hate, she pulsed her biotics, sweeping the ledge clear, pasting the creepers all over the fleshy walls of the chamber, some falling down to the lightless depth below. She stood, her eyes flashing blue, as she again called on her biotics.

Wrex grunted as the pressure crashed on his mind, trying to drown him in hope, in promises of glory, of the krogan rising again, the genophage no longer threatening their existence. He saw the masses of healthy krogan newborn, the crying females, the ecstatic males. He saw his dreams fulfilled, his kind clawing itself back from the road to extinction. The old warlord roared, the voice shaking the chamber, the naked bloodlust and fury in the sound making even the emerging creepers pause. The vision of the krogan tinted red, as the familiar blood rage surfaced again, and he did not suppress it - instead, he focused his anger, as the world around him snapped into clarity, everything slowing down. Urdnot Wrex, Warlord of his clan, vanished in a boom of displaced air and blue light, as he tore into the main mass of the Thorian.

Shepard grimaced as the Thorian’s mind tried to overwhelm them, the tidal waves of alien thoughts and desires seeking purchase on his mind, his soul. He focused inwards, dove within towards the warm golden embers deep within himself. Hoarfrost spread out from him as his eyes sparked gold, his mind racing through the old, embedded rites and protocols, looking for the correct one. He could feel the Thorian’s essence reaching into the lightless depths below, beyond the constraints of the normal, sane universe, as the thing prepared to force its own home reality or the attention of its predecessor on them. Shepard fell to one knee, mouthing syllables not meant for human voice boxes, his concentration on disrupting the Thorian’s efforts. Dimly, he was aware of the gunfire and maelstrom of biotics around him, as Liara and Wrex fought desperately to keep the creepers at bay

Liara could feel the tremors under their feet intensifying, the organic mass of the Thorian retreating from the cold emanating from Shepard. Her eyes flashed as she hurled singularity after singularity into the incoming creepers, using her SMG to handle the ones that somehow gotten past the barrage, and managed to avoid Wrex. Intellectually, she knew that krogan, especially ones as old as Wrex, could be a match even for a combat-inclined asari Matriarch, but she didn’t fully understand it yet. The old warlord was proving it now, fighting in grim silence after that earth-shaking roar, his shotgun turning creepers into chunks of burned masses, his biotics hurling them into the walls or each other, when not detonating her singularities in sprays of Thorian biomass. She gritted her teeth, and focused again, ignoring the pounding ache in her skull, her trickling blood, and the way Shepard’s unheard words seemed to twist the chamber, sending ripples like heat haze across her vision.

Wrex saw the Thorian’s beak convulsing, flooding mucus pooling beneath it, as another slender asari-thing dropped down in slow motion. He lazily backhanded the creeper trying to vomit its acid over his shoulder, then vanished in a biotic blur. The newborn asari-thing could only started to raise its hand, its body lighting up in greenish-white light as the krogan appeared before her, and a plated, scarred forehead crashed into its face, sending it staggering over the precipice. The warlord’s stepped forward, weaving between the grabbing tentacles, and discharged its shotgun directly into its beak. The Precursor roared, its anger and pain shaking the whole colony, almost toppling the asari and the human over into the fissure. Wrex tore out a tentacle reaching for them, before stomping over to kill more of the creepers.

Shepard sensed another presence from within the struggling Thorian, something that tried desperately to claw its way out from the mind of the immense Precursor, fighting towards him through the mental morass flooding around them. He was very much aware of the dangers, but some spark, some familiarity pulled a fraction of his attention toward the presence, and his eyes snapped open in realization.

“Wrex, Liara, we are leaving!”

The operative charged towards a tunnel, making sure to grab Liara’s hand when the asari was a second slower to react. Wrex stomped behind, shotgun blasts and biotic fields alternating behind them, as the trio ran. Frost limned the walls, marking their passage, keeping the grabbing shapes away for the few moments required to pass them. Liara lost track of time and space in the blur of veiny, tumorous corridors, green-eyed Shiala-things, giggling, skipping creepers, gunfire, biotic flares, and cold, golden sparks. She felt her blood dripping away, knew not where and how she was wounded, hoped that her suit was still somewhat sealed, saw that Wrex looked half-torn apart, a grinning, bloody warrior-god from primitive mythologies. 

Shepard stopped before a large tumorlike pod, and Liara tensed, waiting for the thing to shudder and vomit forth a creeper or a Shiala-thing. Instead, Shepard’s omniblade flashed, the organic mass parting, steaming away, and a naked, real asari fell out, coughing, spluttering, her body covered in acid-burns and blood. Liara tried to step closer, to offer aid, but Shepard pushed her back, grabbing the moaning asari, lifting her, lifting  _ Shiala _ .

“Come on!” And the operative  _ moved _ , blurring towards another tunnel, hopefully towards the surface. Liara and Wrex followed, panting, desperately weaving through or stomping over the creepers standing in their way.

Their lifepod was still there, and Shepard hurled the mewling, half-conscious Shiala inside, before tossing in Liara, before he and Wrex jumped in. The lifepod’s thrusters flared, and the small craft lifted off from the colony, before hurtling away, deeper into the atmosphere of Feros, towards the planet’s surface, as the mass of the Thorian tried to engulf them, its mind pressing close on them, promising, cajoling, threatening, battering...

“Normandy, this is Shepard, commence bombardment on Zhu’s Hope, C-type shells authorized!”

Four blazing trails arch through the atmosphere, falling towards Zhu’s Hope. The impact itself buckles the ground for miles, the shockwave buffeting the lifepod. Magma spews forth from the fissures torn by the bombardment shells, painting the Thorian and the Feros skies a hellish red. The Precursor’s bodymass boils away partially, its scream of pain and fury tearing into ears and minds alike as it convulses in torment. In orbit, Garrus Vakarian nods grimly, the effects in line with what he knew of typical bombardment shells. Tali’Zorah is awed and disgusted at the same time, just like Liara in the lifepod. At the ExoGeni observation post, Ashley’s heartrate spikes, her pupils dilate, as her whole being tenses in anticipation.

Shepard’s voice is full of something complex Liara can’t decipher.

“Now, it begins.”

Four shrieking, spinning vortices of scintillating, nameless colours emerge from the impact craters around the Thorian, tentacles of the unearthly light whipping around, clutching at Prothean ruins, Feros soil, Thorian creepers and Thorian biomass alike. The Thorian again screams, its voice filled with anguish, torment, pain. The colour-whips burrow into the heaving, convulsing mass of the Thorian, their touch leeching away colour, sustenance, existence from the creature itself, as reality itself starts bleeding, turning into a drab, brittle grey husk, devoid of all colour, all life. The tentacles of light lash the Thorian again and again, the Precursor’s screams turning into mindless, weak whimpering, and then Liara hears it - an insane, mocking, foul giggling, the voice of children enjoying tearing living beings apart for the fun of it. The vortices of colours spin faster, collapsing inwards, their whiplike appendages pulling back, leaving a grey, brittle desert behind them, that’s quickly inundated with the magma spewing from the tortured crust of Feros.

The mocking, evil laughter presses in on the lifepod, Wrex snarling in defiance, Liara shaking her head, tears in her eyes. Shepard is again chanting voicelessly, something shining with pure golden fire from his closed fist. The colours collapse further inwards, their voices, the flashing, hypnotic patterns of colours becoming furious, the twisting, coiling tentacles of light reaching now for the lifepod, as reality buckles, a tortured moan of stressed existence thundering beneath the lava-lit sky of Feros. The vortices implode with a tremendous concussion, the blastwave flattening the Prothean ruins for miles, swatting the struggling lifepod from the skies. 


	9. Interlude - Visionaries

###  **Feros**

Liara T’Soni felt nauseous. Their crash after the explosion -  _ abortion _ , her mind tried to insist - almost killed them, it was only the quick, reflexive reactions of the three conscious biotics to deploy and mesh their barriers together and cocooning themselves in a stasis field that made survival possible. Thanks to that, they only sported a sizable collection of bruises and sprains, instead of something more serious. However, the main reason for her nausea was the sight of her childhood mentor and friend.

The Shiala of her precious memories looked every image of the graceful, deadly asari commando, always seeming to dance rather than simply move, practically exuding an aura of danger and sensuality. Her voice was warm and low, caressing the young student’s aural cavities, always soothing her troubled mind. She was vibrant, full of life, humor, and kindness. Now, she looked half-dissolved, bones visible where acid ate through -  _ digested  _ \- her flesh, patches of her skin showing organic mass similar to the Thorian’s, her eyes deep with sadness and pain, aware of what was done to her. Liara shuddered, turned towards Shepard, and tensed when she saw his expression.

This was not the usual calm, quietly amused face, or the grim, efficient soldier - she supposed that this was the face of Shepard that Wrex called the Butcher, the one she has read some very dark things about. The usually warm eyes stared at Shiala with an extremely clinical, cold gaze, the golden sparks within that gaze - she suspected they were somehow linked to the operative’s unusual abilities - somehow seemingly boring into her very soul.

“Liara, she’s lucid enough to give some answers. And we need those. If you can’t stomach that, you might want to take a short walk.” Liara closed her eyes for a short second, then shook her head, and sat down next to Shiala, fingers intertwining with those of the other asari. Wrex nodded approvingly, and Shepard shrugged.

“Fair enough. Now, Shiala, how did Saren know about the Thorian here?”

The asari’s voice was feeble, low, filled with pain, her whole body trembling with the effort of speaking.

“Contact from some humans who dealt with Saren before. No idea who they were, but he knew and trusted them.” Shepard’s face turned into a mask of hatred and raw, seething fury for a moment, those golden sparks seemingly swirling in his vision.

“What was Saren after here? Why did he deal with the Thorian?”

“The message from the Beacon was garbled, unclear. Melding with Lady Benezia helped, but still they could not fully comprehend it. The Thorian was old enough to have consumed Protheans as well, and Lady Benezia decided that she’d risk melding with it through an intermediary, and try extracting a cipher, a Prothean thought-scheme...” Her voice trailed off into wet coughing, as Liara stared at her, horror in her eyes.

“And my mother forced you to take the full brunt of the Thorian’s presence?” Shiala weakly shook her head.

“No, I volunteered. We all did.” Three surprised gazes focused on the prone asari.

“That dedication is even beyond what asari commandoes or acolytes do, even after centuries of attachment.” Wrex rumbled, frowning, his eyes blinking as he trawled his ancient memories. Shiala nodded weakly, another cough wracking her frame, mucus leaking from the corner of her mouth.

“True, but after spending time near Saren, near Sovereign...it becomes easier, clearer, their ideas and plans morph into inevitable facts and inviolable destinies. You want to follow them, help them - you simply have to. And if you do well, the voices stop, or at least quiet down.” Her gaze was far away, voice distant, tired, defeated. Liara’s face was creased with worry, apprehensiveness, while both Shepard and Wrex radiated sheer fury.

“Can that mindwashing be broken or prevented?” The human’s voice was clipped, underlined with bottomless anger. Shiala chuckled bitterly, then convulsed in a coughing fit.

“Of course it can be broken, you just need to give yourself to a Thorian! You can’t prevent it, the whispers are constant, draining your will, haunting your dreams, your waking moments, until you give in! And then you’ll feel nothing but the importance of seeing through the tasks given to you, not even joy at obeying them...” Again, mucus leaked from Shiala’s mouth, and Liara frowned. Were the spots of Thorian matter  _ spreading _ ? She made a slight gesture with her omnitool, just to confirm what her eyes saw. She noticed that Wrex had his oversized cannon pointed towards Shiala, the krogan’s gaze sharp and wary.

“Shiala, we don’t have much time. Is that Prothean thought-scheme, that cipher still in your mind?” The asari convulsed, choking, but managed to nod, even as her flesh started to undulate, the Thorian mass burrowing deeper. Liara looked at her teacher’s pained face with tears in her eyes, shaking her head in denial. Shepard’s hand closed on her shoulder, forcing her away as the operative knelt next to the older asari.

“Wrex, watch them.” The human’s hands grabbed Shiala’s face, their gazes locked, and Liara could only stare in horrified fascination as Shiala’s eyes became void-dark pools signalling the meld. Shepard hissed, the golden flecks in his eyes seemingly sparking across his vision as blood dripped from his eyes, ears, and mouth.

The ordeal lasted for an eternity, or simply a handful of seconds according to their chronos. Both Liara and Wrex monitored how the Thorian contagion seemed to spread over Shiala’s body, the stench of unnatural fecundity familiar from the Precursor became faintly noticeable in the lifepod. With a gasp, Shiala convulsed again, her eyes swirling back to green, as Shepard fell back, choking and coughing up blood. Liara hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to help both, then moved to Shepard’s side with a sad, hesitant smile.

The operative was panting, eyes flickering madly, the golden sparks pulsed deep in those eyes, and Liara fell, unaware that her eyes swirled void-black.

_ Familiar humanoid shapes fighting against a shadowy self, exuding defiance, slowly being ground down, dragged away into the void. Pain, overwhelming senses, mechanical tendrils burrowing into flesh, seeking, altering, replacing - a vital something is leaking away, it cannot be defined exactly, only felt, the colours bleaching away, dulling, becoming simpler, a million voices whisper insane, ancient things, a void-dark, cold will pressing down on them. Beware those of the Void, do not turn to their science, their tools will betray you!  _

_ The metal lives, cold machine intelligence cannot be trusted, machines will betray you always, the Void-Machine will CONSUME ALL!!!!! _

_ Dreams, visions of slender, humanoid shapes that greet and teach them, the alien voices melodious, protective, transmitting their warning, but the dreamers can sense their callous, selfish, calculating intent, the disdain felt towards mere pawns - the warnings and portents are disregarded, discarded. Dreams from the past, from the slender creatures cannot be trusted, dreams from the Void must not be trusted. _

_ Vast, world-spanning presences contemplate the galaxy with glacial patience, pondering the message of the Different Ones, nervous systems burrowing through whole worlds are measuring their worth, their intent, before dismissing their clarity for calculated malicious intent, ridiculing the warning as false pretense tailored for gullible slaves.  _

_ The abyss yawns, a black gulf of time, stretching away, so far away, webbed with a crystalline lattice of intent and message - the theme is always the same, a warning of danger dreaming in the distant, cold outer void, mostly unheeded, always overwhelming. A vortex spreads, incomprehensibly wide, spanning worlds, spanning systems, clusters… _

_ Coldly beautiful, hauntingly melodious, the siren song of creation echoes from the depth of the gulf across the vortex, unheeded, as it all ends in fire, immense black shapes descending from above, from outside, reaching down, consuming, gorging themselves, altering and forcing the universe to their needs, closing off something beautiful and vital, silencing the melodies, imprisoning the colours… _

The connection is broken by a deafening shotgun blast as Wrex splatters the remains of the Shiala-thing over the floor of the lifepod. Shepard and Liara both flinch at the sudden, forced disruption of the meld, turning as one towards the ancient warlord, who grins at them.

“Don’t mind me, kids, I know how intense first dates can be.”

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Nos Astra, Ilium**

“You know, this looks like the lineup for a very entertaining joke.” The slender woman with Asian features quipped, as she glided to the table with her escort. The salarian remained impassive, the turian’s mandibles twitched in a wry grin, and the asari preened. The two humans sat down, and the salarian gestured with his omnitool, checked something, then nodded.

“Good, scrambling works. Nice of you to join us.” The woman grinned at him, half-bitter, half-amused.

“When you receive an invitation to chat with three Spectres, one usually does not say no. I hear that’s not good for one’s health.” The asari smiled, a lioness before pouncing on her prey. The woman glanced at her, then focused again on the salarian. “Let us not mince words and waste time. What do you want, Spectre Bau?”

The salarian flashed a quick grin, set a datapad on the table, then spoke.

“Require your particular talents for a job. In return, willing to give you chance to escape official pursuit.”

The two humans shared a glance, then the man spoke.

“What if we decline?”

“You decline now, you walk out here. Will be caught in a month, two if going by pessimistic estimates. You decline after reading that datapad, I end you here and now.” Bau’s voice was dry, without a hint of emotion, his hands comfortably on the table, yet something in his posture shifted ever-so-slightly, and even his two colleagues shot him glances, before the asari quietly chuckled.

“Not  much choice, then.” The man’s voice was bitter, his hand below the table gripping the woman’s fingers.

“Afraid not. Too little time, too important issue. Need people with skills who are not involved with the Broker.” The two humans stared at him in surprise. “Interested, Miss Goto, Mr. Okuda?”

“Let us see the datapad, then we can tell you more.” Bau thought for a second, then nodded, and slid the datapad over. The two humans paged quickly skimmed through the files on the datapad: images of Precursor artifacts, the Temple of Athame on Thessia, Matriarch Benezia, reports about Irem, Leng, and Shanxi, a human building complex in a snowy mountain range, an N7 patch with a green triangle, a gold-black symbol of interlocking hexagons, an immense squidlike black ship. Goto laughed.

“You honestly want us to poke so many hornet’s nests, Bau? The N7 Delta? University of Kathmandu? Why not ask your blue friend there for access to the Athame Temple?”

The asari snorted, bitter smile on her lips as she answered.

“Because even a Spectre with some centuries of community service under her belt is not a Matriarch.” Her lips turned down, as if she swallowed something bitter. “And you two are better at this than I am.”

Goto smiled at the obviously reluctant praise, before she turned to her partner, raising an eyebrow. Okuda focused on Bau, as he spoke.

“What exactly do you want us to do?”

“Information. Patterns. I do not have hard evidence, but what I can deduce makes me worried. Trouble is brewing, and is connected to these things. I need you to dig, and report back anything you may find.”

“That black ship’s the new geth dreadnought that Saren grabbed for his attack on Eden Prime, right?” Goto asked, eyes half-closed in thought.

“Geth irrelevant long-term. Can cause damage to Alliance, Council alike - cause too much damage, and we’ll ally and stomp them flat. Source of black ship more worrying, projected and estimated tech advantage overwhelming. More worrying, absence of any precedence for tech that advanced.” Bau saw Okuda tensing to say something, and raised his hand preemptively. “Do not believe it is geth tech. Too advanced to achieve in those few centuries. Relay logs do not have similar drive core emissions on record. Checked already, also for signs of tampering. None found.”

“We also checked turian and Spectre archives, as well as some asari databanks.” The turian’s flanging voice was laced with suppressed fury and bitterness. “There are some seals not even Spectre credentials could open, not without causing too much uproar.” The asari Spectre grimaced bitterly, laid a hand at the turian’s shoulder, and the turian eased back.

“Why not involve the Broker?” Okuda asked, curiousity evident in his voice.

“You have standards and can be relied on to put overall survival above personal gains. Broker is exactly the opposite.”

“How much support can you give us?” Goto’s voice was resigned.

“Officially, none. Unofficially, will give you access to private accounts and contact methods if you need to reach us for assistance.”

The two humans shared a glance, then nodded as one. Okuda spoke.

“Very well, Spectres, you got your agents.” 

The two humans finished their drinks, and took their leave. 

“Are you sure this was wise, Jondum?” Tela Vasir’s voice was pensive.

“Wise, maybe not. Necessary, almost surely.” The salarian seemed to sag and age years before he went on. “Maybe jumping at shadows. Maybe too old. Dare not take the risk of ignoring it, however.”

Jondum Bau, unofficial Spectre leader was stunned as one of his companions squeezed his shoulder in support as the other kissed him - for luck, if he heard the murmuring correctly.

“Anyway, I think we should also consider how to start gearing up the Council forces for a possible conflict...without alerting the governments.” Nihlus sounded distinctly, bitterly amused. Tela pouted.

“More of the skulking conspiracy stuff, boys? Can’t we have something nice and straightforward for a change? When you get to be my age, you start disliking the shadows, especially when forced to practically live in them. Besides, what do you think we could accomplish on that scale?”

The turian frowned thoughtfully, before he spoke, voice slow, halfway lost in thought.

“Point a few research institutes into other directions, maybe ask for cooperation with the humans on their laser tech. Build a number of stealthships like the Normandy. Improve encryption and communication tech, put some more effort into deploying and fine-tuning power armors. Eradicate troublesome warlords, cut a deal with Aria for eezo. And while it pains me to say, we seriously need to consider doing something about the krogan and the genophage.”

The three Spectres contemplated the future, their plans, their drinks. Nihlus glanced at his companions, then at their drinks. The turian’s mandibles widened into an evil grin as he turned to his friends, omnitool lighting up as he placed a drink order.

“I think we need to de-stress a bit. Tela, your shirt...” 

“Not again, you bird-brained lecher. I’m too old and stiff for the stripper routine!”

The good-natured bickering only intensified, after the alcohol arrived, and the three Spectres put galactic-level conspiracies behind them for the night.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Anadius system, Horsehead Nebula**

Jack Harper permitted himself a smile as he leaned back in his chair, watching the ever-shifting patterns of the surface of Anadius. The view of the star and the void was always calming to him, he felt at home, more ready to make plans, to orchestrate the fulfilment of his vision. Well, not exactly just his vision; the silent, bearded man beside him was likely even more involved - especially since he and another took the younger Jack Harper and his friends under their wings after the hell of Shanxi, and opened his eyes to some truths better left unknown.

He contemplated the multitude of holographic screens before them, eyes flitting over streams of data, looking for patterns, irregularities. He sighed, and lit his cigar, the smoke mingling with the pipesmoke of his companion. He tapped the controller, enlarged a screen, then waited a few seconds for the call to connect.

“Mr. Lawson, good evening. You indicated that we need to talk about your project?”

“We do, actually. I’m sure you have reviewed or will review the files I sent you, so I’ll keep it brief. With the current tech we have, the best we can do is field improved bionic implants, replacement organs, some additions and improvements in the nervous system as well as the musculature and skeletal structure.”

“I see. What is the rejection rate?”

Lawson looked disgusted, his voice bitter as he answered.

“Much higher than acceptable. The final results are impressive, but currently, I can guarantee only a single digit success percentage.” He perked up, interested, focused, eager. “Though if you could give me more test subjects...”

“How much more, Mr. Lawson? Rough estimate of scale will do.” The other man considered for a moment, frowned, nodded to himself before speaking.

“In the four-digit range, at the bare minimum. Five-digit range would be better.”

Harper looked at his companion, raised an inquisitive eyebrow. The silent man half-closed his eyes, calculated for a moment, then seemed to sag, and shook his head.

“Unfortunately, that is currently not feasible, Mr. Lawson.” Harper lifted a hand, forestalling Lawson’s outburst. “I’m not questioning your requirements, results, or procedures, Henry, but I’m sure that once you consider the current galactic climate, you’ll see why acquiring more test subjects is not feasible.”

Lawson frowned, then reluctantly nodded.

“Very well, I see your point, Jack. Still, can you provide me with some subjects? Especially krogans would be welcome. You know how much of the work is based on them, and while robust, they do deteriorate as well, and we don’t have nearly enough of them.”

Again a glance between Harper and the silent man, a minuscule nod this time.

“We will get you some more krogan, Henry, as soon as possible. If there’s nothing else?”

Lawson shook his head, and the connection was terminated. Harper turned towards his guest, and raised an eyebrow.

“So, what do you think?”

“The reports do not seem to be tampered with, and there certainly is progress. Unfortunately, it is much slower than what I hoped for.”

“Come now, Professor - your main profile is close enough to genetic engineering, you of all people should know that what you want is not something that can be produced within a few years. And I still wonder why you insist on that implantable gene-template, instead of in utero modifications.” A puff of smoke from the cigar. “And frankly, currently I see no point in throwing endless amounts of money into this fancy of yours.”

The silent man motioned for him to continue, a professor watching a good student solve a serious problem.

“If what you told me is correct, we will never get the gene-work done in time to deploy en masse, to make a difference in the short-term conflict. I propose moving this endeavour to the back burner, as it were, and reallocate most of the funding to other, more immediately useful projects.”

The silent man considered this for a few moments, face like a judge pondering the sentence, then nodded. Another screen was enlarged, displaying a middle-aged man with receding hair, stubble, wearing the uniform of an Alliance scientist. Harper’s eyes flicked across the brief summary projected on the screen.

“Task Force Aurora? Hackett’s doing some private, off-the-books digging, and into archeotech weaponry and xenoarcheology? Well, well, well...” His chuckle stopped when his companion stared at him, the seemingly universal gaze of a military commander reprimanding a civilian for meddling with things for which he had no proper authorization. Harper raised a hand, forestalling a protest.

“I’m not saying it to disparage him, far from it. I simply never thought that it would be Hackett who actually takes steps into this direction. Then again,” another puff from the cigar, a sip of whisky “Hackett does have relevant experience, and he’s far enough from Sol to get away with a bit of common sense and forethought. So I see no problems in providing funds and assistance to Doctor Bryson and Task Force Aurora. I’ll ask Miranda to set up a convincing foundation whose profile would be inline with Bryson’s public activity.”

The silent man nodded, his face showing the subtle pride of a teacher at his student’s creativity.

“Still, Professor - what if Bryson actually finds something? What if he gets results? Do you have any assets that can provide on-site, direct assitance?”

The silent man thought for a few seconds before he smiled - a sad, bitter smile of someone about to betray the trust of an old friend and comrade. Then he closed his eyes and nodded. Harper dismissed the screen, and the silent visitor turned to leave. Harper again touched the controller, and new screens sprang to life.

“One more thing, Professor. In light of Lawson’s report and Hackett’s efforts, can you reconsider the idea proposed by me and Chandana?”

The silent man turned, stared at the screens. The Great Rift of Klendagon, the Mars Archive, the Noctis Facility, Eingana. The pictures dissolved in static, the smell of ozone filled the air, the temperature dropped sharply. Jack saw his breath plume, and golden light illuminated the void, the power of distant thunderstorms rumbling in his companion’s voice.

“Hear my words and mark me well, Jack Harper.  I am not blind to the needs of humanity or what lies within the hearts of men. You tread on a dangerous path, where your quest for power will result in you succumbing to the dark temptations. The workings of the Precursors must be handled carefully, as the siren song of their science is as dangerous as the music of the spheres, as both will exact a terrible price from those who think themselves their master. You know some and suspect more of what I and my people have fought, so mark my words well: dwelling on these matters too deeply will destroy you and everything you bled to build up.”

Impossibly, lightning seemed to flicker in the void-facing observation room, finding home in Professor Munir Yildirim’s golden eyes.

+++ WOE BETIDE YOU AND YOURS IF YOU IGNORE MY WARNING. YOU WILL BECOME MY ENEMY AND I WILL PASS MY JUDGMENT UPON YOU FOR BETRAYING OUR CAUSE. +++


	10. Chapter 10

##  **Feros, aftermath**

###  **SSV Normandy**

The briefing room of the Normandy was not too large, and with the amount of people inside, Garrus felt somewhat crowded. He leaned back while he took in the Feros ground team: Wrex, impassive as ever; Liara, paler and somewhat shaken-looking; Ashley, her eyes glowing with excitement; Shepard, composed and determined. He glanced aside at Alenko and Tali’Zorah, saw the human frowning, lost in thought, while the young quarian was visibly forcing herself to appear calm. Garrus then focused on the screen in front of the standing Spectre: the surface of Feros. 

He, like most turians in active service (especially potential Spectre, Blackwatch, and Cabalist candidates), knew about the scale of destruction the Alliance was capable of. He figured that after Shanxi and Torfan, the galaxy was well aware of the human’s resolve and capabilities. Now, it seemed, Shepard and Anderson were using one of their own colonies to remind them on that lesson again.

On the screen, the surface of Feros was glowing red, as magma spilled from the deep fissures rent into its crust, the ground writhing and convulsing as the bombardment continued. Clouds of noxious gasses and ejecta darkened the planet’s atmosphere, the hellish glow of the spilling magma accentuated by the flashes of coherent light as the human flottilla fired its dorsal laser cannons at the vicinity of the former colony and the Prothean ruins, where their sensor sweeps found traces of Thorian biomass or geth signals - surely an overkill, after the “conventional” bombardment, and especially after that C-type shelling. Garrus did not ask and did not really want to know what that abbreviation stood for; the gut-wrenching, sheer  _ wrongness _ of those things was enough to convince him about some things better left in the dark. On one hand, he felt privileged to see such a rare sight, on the other, he was watching a world being essentially tortured to death - and he blinked when he realized he meant that literally.

The screen changed, showing the Council, and Garrus saw that he wasn’t the only one to tense, even if all knew that the projectors on their side were focused so only Shepard would be displayed for the Councillors.

“As you can see, the situation is under control, the opposing forces have been eliminated.” Shepard’s voice was calm, even.

“I see your apparent disregard and hatred for Prothean architecture is as strong as ever, Spectre. Was it really necessary to turn an artifact world into a spirits-damned netherworld?” 

“I invite you to educate me on the alternatives Councilor, based on the data we gathered.” Garrus saw he wasn’t the only one who struggled to suppress a smile, it seemed that Councilor Sparatus was rather universally disliked. “I’m sure after service in the distinguished turian Army, your experience in dealing with xenoarcheological threats is vastly superior to that of humanity.”

“You would do well to mind your tone, Spectre, before the Council is forced to ask the Alliance for clarification why such an abomination was not uncovered, reported, and disposed of earlier!” 

“As a Spectre, I consider it my duty to point out that the Council had ample time to examine Feros and locate the Thorian, prior to ceding the world to the Alliance for colonization. Unless, Councilor” Shepard’s eyes narrowed, his posture shifting in eager bloodlust “you want to imply that the Citadel Council knew about a dangerous xenoarcheological threat, and deliberately set up the Alliance as a scapegoat when it broke free.”

Wrex and Ashley cackled, Liara frowned, and Garrus heard Tali mutter something about bulkhead-breaking idiots, as she stopped herself from reaching for Shepard’s arm. Sparatus sputtered in indignation.

“Baseless speculation and slander is not your task, Spectre.” Valern cut in. “We are not going to achieve anything by arguing about past deeds. Spectre Shepard, I found one thing curiously missing from the Feros reports. The exact nature and capabilities of your so-called C-type bombardment shells.”

“I have it on good authority, Councilor, that the Alliance is prepared and willing to hand over the relevant data.” Garrus narrowed his eyes, then his mandibles flared in a grin, as Wrex, Tali, and Ashley chuckled almost simultaneously. “Admiral Hackett assured me that the moment the capabilities of Blackwatch, Serrice Guard, and STG WMDs become available, the Alliance will release the requested information.”

With the ongoing chuckling on their side, Garrus was unsure if the others caught the minuscule nod and smile Tevos directed towards Shepard. The Spectre turned towards the asari.

“Can I assume the requisite political dancing is done with, Madam Councilor? Frankly, I feel we could be spending our time more productively - and my crew needs a bit of time to relax after this. Not to mention that we need to get in touch with our dedicated STG team.”

“Very well, Spectre. We will arrange for a meeting with your STG backup once you get back to the Citadel. I would advise you to consider Noveria as your next target, or at least a close-future one; our operatives found some...disturbing information about the work Binary Helix does there.”

“As you wish, Madam Councilor. If there’s nothing else?” The asari shook her head, and Shepard ended the connection, before sighing and turning towards the crew.

“So, any questions about the Feros operation?” The operative was looking at Garrus with a raised eyebrow. The turian shrugged.

“You know I’m considered sort of an unofficial observer. I gave my report to you before passing it to Sparatus.” The Spectre nodded. “That said, I am curious about those bombs of yours. They certainly seem very ... effective, not to mention unusual.”

Garrus could see Ashley tense and glare at him, then Alenko touched the woman’s arm, and shook his head, with a nod towards Shepard.

“Trust me on this, Garrus - the more you know about those abominations, the less you sleep well at night. And that’s something even the Butcher would agree with.” Shepard’s small smile was bitter. Garrus considered for a few moments, then nodded, relaxing back in his chair.

“Why...why do your people even have them? Those things...those voices...was I hearing things, or did they really...” Tali’s voice was low, hesitant, afraid. “I mean we were up here in orbit, and I thought I could still hear them...”

Wrex shot a dark glare at Shepard, then turned towards the young quarian, his voice a deep rumble.

“Such things are necessary, Tali. Best not dwell on them too long, or too deep. And besides, shouldn’t you be gushing about the drive core?” His eyes widened for a moment when Tali shuddered at the mention of the core, then Wrex narrowed his eyes, and again glared at Shepard. “I see. We will be having words, Butcher. And if I don’t like what you say, I’ll smear you all over the staging deck.”

The Spectre grinned mirthlessly, as he met the krogan’s glare, and nodded. Garrus noticed that Ashley became more tense, more excited as the tension went up between Wrex and Shepard, and her hands were unconsciously looking for an absent sidearm. 

“Anything else?” Shepard looked around, and Ashley spoke up.

“Yes, Commander, may I speak with you and Doctor T’Soni in private?” Garrus sighed, when he noticed Wrex’ wry grin, before they filed out, the krogan’s sinister laughter echoing in the room.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Liara waited nervously with the two humans as the others filed out of the briefing room. She did have some ideas why Lieutenant Williams wanted to talk with them - well, more likely  _ to  _ Shepard  _ about  _ her, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions too quickly. And even if she was correct about the Lieutenant’s agenda, she was unsure whether it was true. She frowned, sitting primly in her chair, as Shepard leant back against the holoscreen’s control unit.

“So Ash, what’s on your mind?” Shepard’s voice was friendly, calm, body language nonconfrontational. Ashley seemed lost in thought for a few more seconds, the silence becoming awkward before she coughed, and looked up into the operative’s eye.

“Sir, I’m unsure whether you are objective enough in your handling of Doctor T’Soni.” She took a deep breath, and went on. “I believe you allowed your personal feelings to dictate your actions during the Feros operation, and endangered the fulfilment of the stated objectives.” Liara was blushing at the woman’s implication, especially since she thought it might contain some measure of truth. Ashley would have continued, but Shepard raised a hand, cutting her off.

“For clarification, Lieutenant. You have problems with me taking Doctor T’Soni and Wrex with me on Feros, instead of Alliance marines, or Garrus, or Tali?”

“Not entirely, sir. I do not like you taking Wrex along, but based on his records, it was a solid tactical decision. I could say the same for choosing Vakarian, though personally I’d like that even less.” Ashley was looking straight into the commander’s eyes, and Liara shivered a bit as she thought what the woman’s argument would be...and at the undercurrent of emotion in her voice. “But taking either Tali or Doctor T’Soni? Commander, both are basically kids,civilians with next to no combat experience, and bringing no battlefield advantage to the table. I can admit to the benefits their abilities can provide shipside, but on the ground, both are liabilities.”

Shepard nodded towards Ashley, and Liara fancied she could detect a very small, somewhat bitter smile on his face.

“So at least it’s not simple speciesism.” Ashley opened her mouth, face flushed, fists clenched, but Shepard held up a hand, and went on. “I know your past, or rather, your family’s past, Lieutenant. I am not holding your prejudices against you as long as it does not impair teamwork or cause more trouble than the occasional snippy remark. Also, I can appreciate the fact that you tell me your suspicions to my face, instead of having to hear it from the grapevine or from our superiors. So, before we take this to a more formal level, let us talk a bit.”

Ashley nodded, a jerky motion of her head, face still angry, posture tense. Liara watched, unsure if she should speak up, but decided she would keep quiet for now, as it was a confrontation between the commander and his subordinate. Still, a part of her brain was considering why Ashley wanted her to sit in, especially since she had not asked for Tali to stay. Some of the conclusions were blush-worthy, so she did just that.

“That said, Lieutenant, while I have not really seen Tali in action much, and I consider her abilities much more useful shipside, I think you are doing the good doctor here a disservice.” Liara and Ashley both snapped their heads up at that, with rather different expressions. Shepard flashed a quick smile, and continued. “While I admit that Doctor T’Soni is not a soldier, spending fifty years on xenoarcheological digs unchanged and basically unhurt is not something I’d call lack of experience, especially if you read through some of those expedition notes.”

Liara’s eyes widened at the implications - surely, the Spectre did not dig that deep into her past exploits? But then again, she considered it was what Spectres did, and the human certainly seemed to know his job well. Shepard went on.

“As for her usefulness on the ground, you presumably saw the recovered Therum reports from Kai Leng’s team?” Ashley nodded, clearly unwilling. “Good, so we can dispense with that part, and you should be getting the idea why I brought her along on Feros. Also, she’s a very good xenoarcheologist, and we were dealing with a xenoarcheological threat, Lieutenant Williams, an Opera Night-level one at that! I should not have to explain the implications of that to you, of all people!”

Ashley flushed, opened her mouth, but Shepard overrode her.

“I am not finished, Lieutenant! Unless you or Alenko suddenly gained an in-depth knowledge in xenoarcheology, she was literally the only choice who could conceivably offer advice in case we ran into something Wrex or me were not familiar with. And did you consider for a moment that we may need to extract information quickly from an unwilling, uncooperative, or unconscious source, without having time or the necessary equipment at hand?”

Ashley’s eyes widened at that, and Liara felt cold, her eyes narrowed in anger. Surely, the Spectre could not have insinuated…

“With all that, Lieutenant, I suggest you leave, and think a bit on the situation a bit. Informally, I can understand and accept where you are coming from and why you said what you did, and I can respect you for that. If you want to go formal, then I advise you to come up with more arguments, and a more solid reasoning. Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Ashley stood, still flushed, before she saluted and marched off stiffly, her face and posture still indicating simmering anger, and perhaps something else. Liara frowned,  _ surely the Lieutenant couldn’t think like that _ …

“Sorry you had to sit through that, Doctor, I have no idea why she wanted to air those issues with you present.” 

“I think I understand her reasoning, Commander, and I’m flattered by what you said, however, there is a small detail I’d like to discuss with you.” Liara’s voice changed to the cold, formal, aristocratic tone she heard Benezia use so often, and sparks of biotic energy licked around her arms and shoulders. “Did you really consider having me forcibly meld with whoever, whatever was down there, just to gain information?”

The operative nodded, with a small, bitter smile. 

“Why, Commander? You do realize I’d never willingly violate someone like that! It’s simply not done, a taboo among asari - wait, would you really have  _ forced _ me to do that? Commit mind rape by proxy?” Liara’s voice was colder than the void, her biotic corona sparking eagerly, her entire being poised to smash the Spectre against the bulkhead, and the Goddess damn the consequences! The Spectre loomed over her, stepping closer, unafraid, and chuckled, the sound low, bitter - and that was mainly the reason she held back.

“Yes, Doctor, that was one option.” The human’s voice was tired but cold. “I know you are young, but get any notion of shining knights in armor out of your head. I do the dark, horrible deeds so the young and idealistic can have a better world, blessedly unaware of the things that lurk in the void. Go on, call me evil, call me a monster, I don’t really care. Me and people like me are, unfortunately,  _ necessary _ . Just ask Wrex, I’m sure he can tell you stories.”

Liara hadn’t noticed how close they were standing as she listened to Shepard’s voice, a part of her wanting to run, another to hit him, while yet another wanted to … she blushed, as she gazed into the strange, gold-flecked eyes from up close. Shepard blinked, suddenly realizing their close proximity. He cleared his throat, and stepped back.

“Sorry about that, Doctor. Unfortunately, I cannot promise that the future will not require somewhat … less than ethical actions. I will do my best to keep you uninvolved with that, but I can’t guarantee we can always find a convenient alternative. So, if you want to leave due to that, I’ll arrange for your return to Thessia.”

Liara allowed her biotics to dissipate, and frowned in contemplation, before she shook her head, and looked back at the Spectre again, with a small, sad smile.

“No, I think I’ll stay with you, Commander. It’s not like I have much choice, do I?” The human looked down, and gave a minuscule headshake. “At least you were upfront about it. Still, Commander, in the future I would deeply appreciate it if you could at least consider other options that forcible melding. If you excuse me, I have some data in need of analysis.” She raised an eyebrow at the human, who nodded, then Liara turned and walked out from the briefing room with perhaps a bit more swaying than necessary.

Some impulse made her turn back at the door, and she saw the Spectre looking at her strangely, before the doors hissed close.


	11. Chapter 11

###  **SSV Normandy, staging deck**

Tali’Zorah was angry at herself, at her weakness - a quarian, afraid of a piece of machinery? The mere thought was laughable. Yet here she was, hesitant to enter the engineering room where she would be alone, with that malicious  _ thing  _ watching her.  _ Keelah, it’s like one of Auntie Raan’s ghost stories… _

As she was dithering in front of the door to engineering, she heard the elevator hiss open, and two sets of steps rung on the deck, heading towards Wrex. She could not make out the words as they were too low, but she heard the low growling voice of Wrex, the flanging, exasperated voice of Garrus, and the low rumble of Shepard. A set of footsteps distanced itself towards the Mako, and as she turned around, she could see Garrus leaning to the tank, shaking his head. A second later, she felt the temperature drop, as hoarfrost crept across the staging deck, and the blue-white concussive detonation of a biotic charge shook the ship.

She was paralyzed for a second, before the deep laughter of Wrex filled the deck, the sound followed by the shriek of tearing metal. Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, daughter of the Migrant Fleet and heir to one of its admirals, stalked towards the staging deck, intent on chastising the imbeciles putting the whole ship and crew into danger with their immature, childish show of bravado. How dare they behave like that, the bosh’tets should know better!

Her measured stalking hastened by the sounds of biotically empowered blows and thuds, she reached the staging deck in time to see Shepard skidding over the frost-limned deck, ducking under a blow from Wrex, and staggering the old warlord with a kick to the knee, the human’s face a mask of savage joy and bloodlust. The krogan grunted, staggered, then sent the operative flying with a biotic throw, before closing again with a snarl, his grin a match to Shepard’s. To the side, Garrus was watching with apparent frustration, before the turian snapped to attention, and grinned at Tali. His grin wilted as she sent him a withering glare through her mask -  _ he’s a turian, they are supposed to be disciplined _ -, before marching closer, her fingers drumming on her omnitool. A raised three-fingered hand limned in orange - then the staging deck was filled with the smell of ozone and blue-white light as Tali simply electrocuted the two brawlers, who fell to the deck twitching.

“What in the void are you bosh’tets thinking? Are you trying to rip the ship apart with your insane antics? Why not drop down to Feros or an asteroid if you so desperately want to have a ridiculous contest like this?” She towered over the two prone, still-twitching males, finger pointing accusingly on them, her voice almost a shriek from the barely controlled fury, indignation, and fear. “I can’t believe you two are so recklessly insane! Have you given any thought to what may happen when you rip through these flimsy plates and the outer hull? Are you planning to do Saren’s job in getting us all killed? Where’s the experienced, legendary krogan warlord? Where’s the responsible special operative? Who swapped them with two testosterone-addled teenagers?”

Garrus almost fell over standing as he could not hold back his laughter - the sight of the diminutive quarian lecturing the two brawlers was simply too much, and he only regretted switching on his visor’s recording function a few seconds too late. Still, he supposed the part he captured would be excellent blackmail material… then he stiffened as Tali rounded on him, her omnitool emitting small, ominous arcs of electricity.

“Don’t you dare laugh, you bosh’tet lizard, you are as much to blame as they are! Why in the void did you not stop them?” Garrus sputtered, tried to interject, to defend himself, point out how ridiculuous the thought of him stopping the ship’s captain was, but Tali simply did not care. “You are a turian, you should have set a good example for discipline and regulations! If you could not stop them, why not alert Chief Engineer Adams, XO Pressly, or Doctor Chakwas? I’m sure either of them could have put these overgrown kids in their place, and enlightened them about shipboard safety with regards to biotic fights!”

Her tirade sputtered as Shepard and Wrex both rose, towering over her, while measuring her with almost-identical gazes. She felt herself shrinking a bit, before she squared her shoulders, and again glared at them, glad that they could not see her flush under her helmet. Wrex laughed, without a trace of anger, while grinning at her.

“See, Shepard, this is the reason for our little counseling session. I may have to take her to Tuchanka, if she’s willing.” Tali looked bewildered, especially when Shepard grinned and nodded.

“Why would you take me there? What do you mean, you overgrown turtle? Quit being so mysterious!”

The answer came from Shepard.

“The krogan rite of adulthood and adoption into a clan is traditionally conducted on Tuchanka.”

Tali nodded absently, raised her finger to make a point, before the words registered. Being the daughter of an admiral, nephew of another, she was able to pull together a sufficiently eloquent reaction.

“WHAT?”

Her shout set all three males off, and her visor helpfully provided targeting data before she dismissed the suit VI’s suggestions with a blink. She took a deep breath, her omnitool arcing with dangerous sparks again, and she took a vicious satisfaction that it stopped all three bosh’tets from laughing. They were still grinning, but she’d take what she could get.

“Now, seriously. What in the void are you talking about, Wrex?”

The huge krogan’s grin was not reassuring her. At all.

“You’ve got a quad on you, little Tali. I would feel remiss if I didn’t offer my favorite new niece a chance of joining Clan Urdnot, to make it official.”

Tali’s mouthpiece glowed, but no words came out. Garrus, mandibles still flexed in that infuriating grin of his, spoke up.

“You might want to think seriously about this, Tali. Krogan warlords do not often make these to just anyone.” He thought for a second, then his grin dropped. “Though I’m not sure about that rite of theirs, I heard some stories...”

Tali’s mind whirled with the possibilities, duty to her people skirmishing with her personal feelings, and since there were traitors among the latter, the struggle was brief, the outcome not in doubt.

“You’re like the crazy, headbutting uncle I never had, Wrex.”

She was surprised when the crazy old turtle almost crushed her into a hug, her protests muffled by the almost rib-cracking strength, her mortification at the laughing krogan’s action somewhat mitigated by the poleaxed look on the faces of both Garrus and Shepard. She grinned under her helmet as she was back on her feet, the possibilites of a closer interworking between the Migrant Fleet and a krogan clan whirling in her mind. Also, she felt good at the praise, as Wrex did not seem to have ulterior motives, and apart from his species-induced insanity, he was quite fun to be around.

“Watch out Shepard, my new niece just might take a fancy to you, and then your pretty little doctor will have some serious competition.”

As Garrus and Shepard once again descended into undignified giggling, Tali was busy trying to kill Wrex with a glare while struggling for words.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **SSV Erebus, Attican Beta cluster, en route to Feros**

Admiral Steven Hackett was feeling conflicted. A part of him was pleased that once again, the capabilities and resolve of humanity have been sufficiently presented to the alien races; another part of him railed at the cost and methods of said reminder - he never liked the C-type shells, especially after he attained flag rank, and became privy to what exactly those things were. He was also quietly furious with ONI dropping the ball on the whole issue; an alien lifeform requiring such extreme measures to finish should have been better supervised, and reigned in much earlier.  _ Of course, the possible benefits of a tech rush almost always trump the more sensible course of immediately killing such abominations. One would think that events like Irem and Leng were enough of a reminder, but no, we are too prideful for that… _

Hackett snorted, and continued studying the reports from Shepard and Anderson, jotting down notes on his datapad. He started to approve and expand upon the follow-up investigation and purge suggested by his subordinates, taking steps against ExoGeni (after all, they did lose control of their experiment), drawing up plans for a more offensive approach towards the geth - if the reports from Fyodor’s flotilla were accurate, the damn machines were up to something in the Armstrong Cluster.

His contemplation was interrupted by a call from the main bridge.

“Hackett here.”

“Admiral, an Alliance vessel just dropped from lightspeed, and it is requesting docking permission. According to the data burst sent, the passenger of the ship wants to see you ASAP, and based on the clearance used, it might just be genuine.”

Hackett’s eyes scanned the encrypted code, mentally comparing it to the ones committed to memory - and only decades of service kept his face impassive. 

“Order Captain Rafael to maneuver for fastest possible interception course, then have the other vessel dock in the bay nearest to my office. Ensure that the shortest route between the docking bay and my office is cleared. I want shipboard security in readiness. Also, tell the Captain I want a full sensor sweep of the sector, repeated at short, randomized intervals.”

“Aye, Sir.”

While his ship was maneuvering, Hackett considered who exactly his guest would be, and what the agenda might be. Based on the codes and means of contacting him, it had to be an extremely urgent and sensitive issue - Director Bergman was not known for jumping at shadows. He could guess a bit further about the nature of the issue, since the University of Kathmandu was usually not involved in everyday tasks. Still, the clearance level with its attached signifier made him uneasy, especially since he was on his way to support another; it felt as if Fate itself was mocking him.

His guest arrived an hour after her message - a petite, dark-haired woman, whose age he could not determine, but wagered that she was older than her looks indicated. She wore no formal uniform with rank and specialty signifiers, just a simple, utilitarian catsuit, that he suspected would nicely double as body armor. She stepped to his desk and saluted.

“Admiral Hackett, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Forgive me for saying that the feeling is not mutual, Specialist. We were in somewhat of a hurry towards Feros, as I’m sure you know. And I suspect your arrival will delay us longer than a few hours.”

“Unfortunately, you are correct Admiral. I apologize for intervening in your operations, but both Director Bergman and Professor Yildirim impressed on me that the issue at hand is potentially as serious as the Feros situation.”

Hackett felt his blood go cold, as he lifted an eyebrow, motioning for the woman to sit and continue.

“That is a very dangerous claim, especially with those two names attached. Elaborate, Specialist.”

“May I, Admiral?” At Hackett’s nod, the woman gestured with her omnitool, and the holoscreen of the office came alive, the display split to show the black ship from Eden Prime, a certain hexagonal logo, and the surface of a planet every spacer of the Terminus knew. Hackett’s eyes narrowed as his mind tried to correlate the three unrelated images, and not liking the immediate possibilities that arose.

“I know you are cleared and in the know about Cerberus, Admiral. After the Eden Prime attack, a think tank of Project Cerberus scientists was charged with looking for information and theories about weaponry capable of contending with that black dreadnought. Frankly, we did not expect any result anytime soon,” Hackett snorted at that, mouth curling in a bitter smile, “but Doctors Chandana and Garneau came up with a theory involving the Great Rift.”

The Admiral thought for a few seconds before speaking.

“Do they want to find the weapon that created the Great Rift, or do they want to investigate if there are tracks of the intended target?”

The specialist looked pleasantly surprised.

“A bit of both, Admiral. They do have some theories about likely trajectories, accounting for the elapsed time. We also ran their search models through our navcomputers, and the possible locations for an intended target do seem plausible. There’s unfortunately a rather substantial amount of space to search for, even so.”

“I thought so. Still, even with that, I fail to see why you needed me, especially now. That type of task would much better suit to any Scout Flotilla, and I’m sure that First or Second Fleet would have ships to spare. I do have my hands full of geth and the Saren business, you may recall.”

The woman cleared her throat, and looked in Hackett’s eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to … certain factors, the Director and the Professor thought it better if the First and Second Fleet was not involved in this operation, at least for the time being.”

Hackett’s eyes narrowed dangerously at his visitor. 

“That’s quite a serious insinuation, Specialist. Care to share the details, or at least the reason?”

“I’m sorry, Admiral, but I cannot. At this point, we have only suspicions, not evidence or facts. With the current situation, neither the Director, nor the Professor wanted to cause more internal strife than absolutely necessary. I apologize for the burden this places on Fifth Fleet and you, but this is what we are dealt by Fate.”

Hackett snorted, before he stood and started pacing.

“Tell me, what do you want exactly? I can’t spare too many ships, especially not for any extended time. Am I correct in assuming that you want the Erebus on-site at first, just in case someone unfriendly is waiting there?” The woman nodded, and Hackett went on. “I do not like that, but I suppose it’s sensible. I can give you a few days, then I need to be elsewhere, conducting anti-geth operations. Also, it would be too suspicious for me to vanish that long, wouldn’t it?”

“Correct, Admiral. We can come up with a cover story for a, say, three-day absence, but even under other circumstances, I would not presume to take up more than yor time.”

“Fair enough, then. And we’ll use those three days to see who can be detached to provide you with some scanning and protection capabilities.”

“Thank you, Admiral Hackett. I only wish the circumstances were less severe.”

“As do I. Will you be returning to your ship, or do you intend to remain here?”

“Perhaps staying here would be better, at least until we get to Klendagon.”

“Then, I hope you’ll accept an invitation to dinner with me and my officers, Specialist Olivia Zuleika.”

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Thessia, Temple of Athame**

The elegant, curved lines of the city buildings had not put Nihlus at ease, and he saw the minuscule signs of Tela herself preparing for confrontation - small wonder, considering their current agenda. He silently cursed Bau for delegating this hassle to them, and laid a hand on Tela’s arm, holding her back for a second. The asari glanced at him, face an unreadable mask.

“Thanks for coming along, Tela.”

“I could not very well leave you to the mercy of those old hags, could I?” Even Nihlus had difficulty spotting the humor and smile in his partner’s eyes. “Now, remember to keep your tongue from lolling down your plates, and mind your manners.”

“Don’t worry, Jondum has given me detailed instructions on what to do.” The asari’s gaze searched his features for a long second, then she snorted, and shrugged.

“Your funeral.”

The two Spectres ascended the steps to the Temple of Athame, the gates irising open before them. Nihlus took in the various religious artifacts and statues scattered within, finally focusing on the huge statue of the ancient asari goddess dominating the centre of the temple. Their footsteps echoed in the reverent silence, as they marched towards the small group waiting for them at the foot of the goddess. Nihlus knew enough to recognize two of them as ranked priestesses of Athame, but the other five set alarm bells ringing in his head, his stance and gait turning wary, predatory.  _ What in the name of the spirits are Huntresses doing here, especially disguised as priestesses? _

A small, fleeting gesture at the edge of his vision let him know that Tela, obviously, spotted the problem, and was ready to follow his lead.

“Greetings, honored Priestess!” The turian’s flanging voice evoked strange echoes among the shifting shadows. “We have come seeking advice about a wayward daughter of the Goddess.”

“Be welcome, Spectres” the asari on the right answered with a mellow, lilting voice. “I am afraid the Temple cannot offer much information on Liara T’Soni; devoted follower she may be, but her youth means we have few records of her.”

The turian’s mandibles flared in a grin only a braindead vorcha would mistake for a friendly smile.

“Insulting a Spectre is not a wise course of action, Priestess.” He leaned forward, posture shifting as if tensing for a pounce, saw the five Huntresses tense just a bit. “Even when you have disguised bodyguards at your beck and call. Best end the charade, before we are forced to add sacrilege to the list of long grievances the Matriarchate has laid at the feet of the Spectres.”

The Huntresses bristled, he could see faint sparks of biotic flares, quickly suppressed. The priestess drew herself up, channeling every bit of offended dignity her ancient religion and centuries of personal experience allowed her. Tela at his side looked relaxed, almost bored - just like whenever they were about to do something excessively violent. The priestess controlled herself with barely a visible effort.

“Why meddle with our sacred duties, Spectre? If you so desperately want to obtain information on Benezia T’Soni, why not go to the Council of Matriarchs? They are the ones who deal with the temporal, external world, we are but curators and delvers of the ancient past.”

“And you do keep records of those times, do you not?” Tela’s voice was colder than he had heard it in a long time, accompanied by a sharklike grin. “Similar to how you have detailed information on the capabilities and history of the notable members of the Cult. People like Benezia T’Soni.”

“If you know that, Spectre” the title was spat like a curse “you should know that our archives are closed, and only the most senior members of the Cult may access them, and even then only in dire need.”

Nihlus laughed, the sound bitterly amused.

“Enlighten me, Priestess, what you consider dire need, as obviously the betrayal and insanity of an influential figure like Benezia and a formidable Spectre like Saren are not enough!” Green eyes glared at the clustered asari, as the turian’s stance shifted forward, as if ready to charge. “The geth building or accessing technology to build ships that can potentially wipe out whole fleets and worlds? The humans burning a colony of theirs to get rid of a precursor too dangerous to let live? Tell me Priestess, are these times and threats not dire enough for you? Will you let Thessia burn around you just to keep your vaunted secrecy just that much longer?”

The Spectre heard a venomous hiss from the Huntresses, and saw a proud, excited smirk flash across Tela’s face.  _ Best not dwell on that now. _

“Help us browse your relevant databases - at least then you can honestly tell the galaxy that you played a vitally important role in preventing an errant daughter of the Goddess from committing something unforgivable.”

The priestess considered Nihlus for an eternal minute, before she nodded, and motioned them to follow.


	12. Chapter 12

##  **Pax system, Horsehead Nebula**

###  **SSV Normandy, Noveria orbit**

Garrus Vakarian leaned casually against the wall of the briefing room, contemplating the possible reason for Shepard summoning him and Wrex for a meeting - considering the last time the three of them had such a session before going planetside, he expected something equally drastic. The Spectre arrived a minute after he made himself comfortable, just opposite Wrex. Shepard nodded to them both, stepped to the controls of the holoprojector, and the machine hummed to life, displaying Noveria.

“I need some information. Wrex, did you have any dealings on Noveria during your mercenary career? Or anything to do with Binary Helix?”

The krogan grunted, thought for a few seconds, fiddled with his omnitool, then shook his head with a disgusted snort.

“No, unless they were really good at disguising themselves and acting through intermediaries. And come to think of it, are they not a relatively fresh company?”

“Old turtle, compared to you, quite a few asari companies are relatively fresh.”

Garrus didn’t bother to suppress a snicker at Shepard’s quip, while bringing up his omnitool, accessing old records. The Spectre turned towards him, but waited silently for him to finish the search.

“So, found anything, Detective?”

“Nothing that’s admissible in court. C-Sec had a number of run-ins with their security personnel when BH was bringing certain specimen shipments through the Citadel, but we could never get them, they were careful to stay within the letter of the law.” The turian made a disgusted sound. “I do hate people like that, paying only lip service to rules and only when that’s convenient for them. Anyway, we could never exactly pin down their specific research projects or sites.”

Shepard nodded, focusing on the image of Noveria.

“And what about the Corporate Court? Anything worth mentioning about them?”

“You kidding, Butcher? Those pyjacks have credits for blood and can see no farther than their profit margins. They cheerfully shoot at each other with military-grade weaponry, conduct practically wars unde the guise of sentient resource acquisition… eh, you get the idea. I’m sure the turian has some nice stories about them.”

“Not really, Wrex. C-Sec is usually told to leave the Corporate Court alone, we have to treat them like any spirits-damned foreign dignitary. Technically, they are not signatories of the Accords, so they are left alone as a useful front for less-than-scrupulous experiments and research.” Garrus almost spat bile. “Never mind what their people do, they are untouchable, and even Spectres tend to leave them alone.”

The human flashed them an insane grin.

“I notice you said tend to - any precedents you can dig up?”

“Not without cracking some encrypted archives, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea, or if I could do that in time.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot. Now, I want your take on this message I got from the friendly local representative of the Corporate Court.”

The recording was short, and Garrus snorted in amusement as it ended.

“Well, Shepard, they certainly don’t want you around. Almost as if some big-time investor warned them that a Council representative would arrive shortly. And Anoleis is correct, we can’t really do anything if we want to push via the usual diplomatic, legal channels.”

“Heh, you’ll be surprised, I think. The Butcher looks like he has plans.” Wrex grinned, the sight sending shivers along Garrus’ spine. The shivers gained in strength as the human returned the grin, every bit as bloodthirsty and insane.

“You do know me, old turtle. Joker, connect to Port Hanshan, office of Administrator Anoleis.”

“Aye, commander.”

The holoscreen lit up a few seconds later, displaying a middle-aged salarian.

“Spectre, what do you want? Be aware that you will be billed for every second of mine you are wasting with pointless posturing.”

“Nice day to you too, Administrator. Now, about my request to access the Binary Helix facility, have...”

“My answer is no. You are not investors, Noveria does not fall under the purview of the Citadel Council or the Alliance, there is no compelling evidence that Binary Helix is involved in anything that would warrant such an intrusion. Now, is there anything else?”

“Actually, there is.” The human’s voice has grown colder, harsher, more eager. “Devote a minute or two to studying the file I’m sending you now.”

They watched in silence as Anoleis opened the file, went a shade paler as the contents played out on his monitor, unseen to Garrus. Even so, he could guess at the contents of the file, and he didn’t know whether to approve or feel disgusted. With a minuscule headshake, he focused on the screen again, and at the Spectre who resumed talking.

“Now, administrator. Care to reconsider your position, before I enact a similar experiment here as well?”

The salarian went a shade paler still.

“You wouldn’t dare. The consequences, the loss of life and...”

“Spare me the indignation, Anoleis! Why wouldn’t I do it? If you think the Butcher of Torfan” Shepard’s voice dropped an octave, and seemed to exude eager thirst for blood “would balk at something as simple as pressing a few buttons, you are very much mistaken.”

“The Citadel Accords forbid orbital bombardment of civilian targets, you would...”

“Yes, but the Corporate Court is not among the signatories, is it?” The human’s smile would have made deep-sea predators proud. “You should have done your homework on me, Anoleis. The STG will not be happy that you became this lax at your old age.”

Anoleis’ reaction was just a very slight widening of pupils, even Garrus would have missed it if he didn’t watch extremely closely for any telltale signs. The human operative smiled, before continuing.

“Don’t act so surprised, you’d be amazed what one can find in the Spectre archives with a little time. Now, are you going to provide what I requested, or do we have to become unpleasant?”

The salarian huffed, turned his head to the side before jerking his head in a minuscule nod.

“Captain Matsuo of the ERCS detachment will meet you at the dock, and escort your party to the hangar where your transportation will be readied for you.”

“Thank you Administrator. It’s refreshing to meet helpful bureaucrats like you.” Shepard nodded towards Anoleis with a calm face, broke the connection. A few seconds later, the occupants of the briefing room descended into highly inappropriate giggle fits.

“Would you have really bombed Port Hanshan, Shepard?” Garrus asked, voice still carrying an undercurrent of mirth. Wrex snorted as the human answered, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Of course. You two would have done the same in my place, I suspect.”

“Not me, Butcher. I’d have fired much sooner, and”

“And eaten Anoleis raw, we know. I can see why you think that even I’d have bombed the smug bastard. Still, Shepard, the civilian casualties” Shepard cut in, voice cold. 

“Think, Garrus. It already does come down to numbers - sacrifice a few tens of thousands here in Port Hanshan, or endanger who knows how many millions by risking Saren and Benezia get away? Those two have enough of a head start as it is, I do not really intend to give them more time to continue whatever insane schemes they concocted without interference.”

Garrus frowned, then nodded.

“I suppose I do not like it, but you are right, Shepard. Still, what would you have done if Anoleis didn’t cave?”

“Drop a few nukes on the city, get Saren and Benezia nailed to the wall of the Council Chamber, then face the charges.”

The turian thought, before slowly inclining his head.

“Fair enough, Shepard. Now, shall we get down to planning this little trip of yours?”

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Noveria, Rift Station Labs**

She dreamt of colors, of music - a soothing, peaceful lullaby echoing across the tapestry of the infinite blackness of the void. The song bound and focused her peers, her children, her whole race into a harmonious unity, as they built and expanded among the uncaring, unliving stars, paying attention to skirt around the slowly pulsing presences of ancient dreamers whose mere proximity affected their song, necessitating alterations in pitch and frequency, realigning their whole direction of expansion on more than one occasion.

For millenia, their harmony sang triumphant among the stars, a symphony of unity and peace, a hymn to working together as a whole race. Their numbers grew, and her peers were forced to sing louder, the echoes of their song travelling farther and farther. That was when the sour, alien note entered the choir from the Outer Darkness, disrupting the harmony, the yellowish sounds worming their way into the singers, subtly, slowly changing their focus, shifting their attention towards the faint but teeming discord of the  _ others _ . 

She remembered how their children swarmed over the fragile masses of the asari and salarians, the low music of their existence snuffed out under the bombastic dissonance of her own race, now fully inundated with the corrupting yellow song. The orchestrated tide swept ever closer to the Citadel, grinding all under their limbs, drowning worlds in swarming brown masses of warriors and broodguards. She remembered how the foreign note seemed to swell in triumphant, viciously loud blares whenever a world fell. She remembered the immense, ever-present hunger and brief flickers of satiated contentment of that hateful yellow song. She knew, as did her peers that nothing could stand against them.

Yet something did. A boisterous, loud voice joined the chorus opposing them, a teeming multitude of minds screaming for fight, for honor, for survival and expansion. Their enemies found something similar to them, a new race that could stand up to the broods wherever they went. The new race fought with cunning ferocity, courage and stamina unmatched, and the tide of the broods was slowed, stopped, turned back. Uncountable beings perished on scoured worlds as the newly-uplifted krogan cleansed her kind with atomic fire, before descending to finish the job with guns, blades, fists, and biotics.

The yellow sound laughed in their minds as it glutted itself with the dead of both sides, even as the laughter transformed into a mad howl of pure fury, knifing into the tattered unity of the broods, disrupting the already-strained internal harmony - and her peers knew then that they were lost, abandoned to the nonexistent mercy of their blood-mad enemies.

She was created then, her peers pouring their knowledge, parts of their own songs and essence into her being. She knew that a long sleep awaited her and her brood, but with luck, when they woke, the others would have forgotten their atrocities, and would be willing to listen. The brood could then again sing in peace and harmony, growing and nurturing the others, building instead of destroying.

Her dreamless sleep was interrupted when a new, unknown species found and woke her - their cold machines drilling into her, veins and mind filled with soothing, numbing substances, as she became a prisoner in her own body, only her mind railing at the renewed enslavement of her race. The humans cared not for her offers, opting to extort her secrets and knowledge with brute force, using her and her children in gruesome experiments - her horror, sadness, and fury multiplied when she witnessed how they carelessly used their own kind in the selfsame experiments.

The created, “improved” hybrid abominations were mercifully short-lived, yet they kept creating more and “better” ones, trying for a “perfect weapon organism”. Even with her mind and song limited by the safety measures, she slowly, carefully hoarded her hatred, ready to strike.

Her dreams of vengeance shattered when a new pair of captors took over, dominating the humans already present. An asari, barely a child compared to her peers but an ancient crone when compared to herself, and the crone’s turian mate, a male of hard, cold, insane determination. The two were perhaps even more brutal in their quest for knowledge - the crone worming into her mind and soul, while the turian burrowed with freezing mechanical tendrils deep into her body. She fought, again and again, denying them the knowledge they sought, and delighted in their frustrated rage.

She underestimated their madness. When the two returned after a short (long? momentary?) absence, her composure shattered at their proximity, when she sensed the subtle presence of the ancient yellow note. She howled in terror, in rage, and all her descendants, purebred and bastard hybrids alike howled with her, breaking free even as their enslaved Queen could but endure the two aliens ripping the coveted information from her mind, her cells, her very soul.

 

* * *

 

 

###  **Noveria, Peak 15 Research Facility**

Liara felt the cold bite into her body even through her insulated, heated suit. The ride from Port Hanshan was long, and less than pleasant; the winds constantly attempted to drag the Makos from the narrow, serpentine roads into the deep crevices, or to smash them against the towering cliffs. The occasional geth ambushes did not help either - well, apart from cheering up Wrex and surprisingly, Tali. Still, at least the long, monotonous hours of driving through blizzards were somewhat enlivened by the short and vicious shootouts. Her mind paused at that last thought, and wondered how quickly events like this seemed to become the norm for her.

She blinked to clear away the errant thoughts, and focused on the Mako’s sensor display again, as the convoy neared the facility, preparing herself to face her mother, hoping and fearing the confrontation. Peak 15 barely appeared at the edge of the sensor reach, with active defense turrets already homing in on them, when Liara convulsed, a howl of terrified rage slicing into her mind. She dimly noted Shepard bending over the controls, blood trickling from his nose. Wrex grunted, bared his teeth in a savage snarl, as Tali turned her head, her shining eyes blinking uncomprehending behind her faceplate. If not for the little quarian and her quick reaction, they would have ended then and there.

Tali rerouted the Mako’s controls to her station, overriding Shepard’s console, and wrenched them back from the edge of the cliff, then kicked in the gravity thrusters, evading the incoming rocket salvo - well, almost all of those, as a rocket exploded against the Mako’s shield, sending it flickering. The comm unit was alive with cursing voices, as apparently the other vehicle was also similarly affected, the howl putting Kaidan off-balance enough that they almost went over the edge, while Ashley had to be restrained by three of her marines as she went borderline berserk.

Liara was still gasping for breath when Shepard regained control, and took over from Tali, accelerating towards the facility with the drunkenly weaving style she was starting to associate with his driving. The evasions did not really improve her still-aching head or her queasy stomach, and she noticed that even Wrex was feeling somewhat ill at the Spectre’s behind-the-wheel antics. At least the stunt driving was enough to foul up the aim of the defense emplacements, so they suffered no direct hit.

The research station was a massive building partially hidden within a mountain peak. The trail they followed ended in a mangled, partially-melted gate. After a quick deliberation, Shepard ordered his team to suit up, and continue on foot, leaving two marines with the APCs. Something about the place, especially the markedly corroded, melted architecture looked familiar to Liara, but she could not place it. She noticed Wrex looking more tense than usual, the old warlord constantly scanning their surroundings, his Claymore set for inferno rounds.

“Tali, see if you can access the station VI from here. Alenko, Garrus, check those APCs, see if their onboard VIs have anything important. Ashley, you and the marines secure the garage, and wait for the others to finish.” The Spectre barely waited for the answering nods before continuing. “Wrex, Liara, we are going forward a bit, take a look around.”

Liara nodded, proud that her hands did not shake as she checked her weapons and suit seals, before following Shepard and Wrex from the garage. The tunnel leading deeper within was shortly ending in a security strongpoint. Liara frowned; there was something off here, something not right… her musing was interrupted by the krogan’s short bark of bitter laughter

“See it, Butcher?” The Spectre nodded, his mouth a grim line before he opened his comm, contacting the others.

“Be aware that the locals may have been trying to contain something - and that something likely got out. When in doubt, shoot first, and don’t bother with questions.”

The asari wanted to ask for clarification, when it hit her - the gun emplacements were all pointed inwards, the short inter-airlock walkways were lined with incinerator openings, all pointing to being built for containment instead of deterring unwanted visitors. Shepard fiddled with his omnitool, before leading them on, and Wrex grunted with a frown when they passed the inner airlock, and entered the elevator.

The ride up seemed to take forever, before the elevator doors opened, and the trio stepped out to the deserted cafeteria of the station. The place showed signs of an intense firefight, the partially melted geth wrecks chief amongst those. Snow swirled within, and Liara could hear the wind howling through the bulletholes of the windows. She frowned, stepped closer to one of the downed geth, her omnitool lighting up as she examined the still-hissing acid burn of its arm, while Shepard contacted his team.

“Alenko, send Tali, Garrus, and Ashley up. Bring the Makos inside the garage, and have the marines set up sentry points. There may still be geth around, and we have still no clue what was contained here - at least it seems to dislike geth as much as we do.”

“Guests incoming.” The krogan’s voice was level, his oversized shotgun tracking the faint skittering coming from within the vents.

“Spiders! Spiders! Spiders! Spiders! Spiders! Spiders!” Tali’s screaming was punctuated by shotgun blasts and pistol fire. Liara barely started rising from her crouch when a huge, brown-black creature exploded from the vent with a shriek that knifed directly into her brain, and she almost couldn’t control the impulse to flee. Her hand lit up with blue fire as she hurled a singularity towards the creature, altering its jump into a slow spinning around her miniature black hole, before a warp from Shepard detonated the thing, splattering the creature all over the cafeteria. Another of the things aiming at Shepard was blasted apart mid-leap by Wrex. The huge krogan stepped to the carcass, shot it again for good measure, then grimaced.

“Rachni. Guess we know what was contained here.”

++++++

“Alenko, change of plans. According to the lab VI, Saren and Benezia headed to the Rift Station labs about two hours before that scream we heard. If we are lucky, we still might catch them there, if the rachni didn’t do our job for us.” Shepard was pacing, his omnitool lit as he studied the map of the complex. “You’ll remain here with Tali and the marines. Repair the comm relay and ensure that the reactor stays undisturbed; we still may have rachni creeping around, and the geth could try to come over and sabotage it. Tali’ll continue working on the VI, we need all the info we can get from its databanks, but the priority is getting in contact with the Normandy again. If we miss Saren and Benezia, Joker may be able to stop them from leaving the system.”

Alenko nodded, and his omnitool pinged as he received a data packet from the Spectre.

“Short-term authorization codes, just in case something goes wrong in the next four hours. If necessary, order a bombardment of Rift Station; the included data packet should be enough to convince the Council of the necessity.”

The lieutenant nodded again, omnitool lit as he opened his map of the complex, considering sentry points, possible fallback positions, likely entry points for invaders. Alenko considered for a moment, then looked up.

“Commander, give us maybe 10-15 minutes with Wrex, he has much more firsthand experience with rachni, I’d feel more comfortable if he could check on our plans.”

Shepard nodded, then headed over to where Garrus and Ashley were talking animatedly near one of the Makos, a large number of weapons and armor blocks spread before them.

“Hate to interrupt your flirting, but can you two spare a moment?” Ashley sputtered indignantly while Garrus returned the Spectre’s smirk with one of his own.

“Sure, Shepard, we were just discussing loadouts and weapon benefits for the upcoming dance.”

“Glad to know you found some common hobby. Any conclusions you might care to share?”

“Mainly disruptor rounds, with anti-personnel ammo mixed in. Unfortunately, if you want to keep things reasonably intact in a lab, HE or inferno ammo is not really a good idea. Ashley insists on using both.”

Shepard looked at the woman, eyebrow raised.

“Sir, while I can see and agree with Garrus’ opinion, the larger rachni have shown remarkable resistance to lighter ammunition, and from what Wrex said, their queens and the ones guarding it should be even tougher.” The lieutenant was unaware of her hungry smile as she went on. “Besides, such ammo can really ruin even a powerful biotic’s day, especially when preceded by disruptor rounds.”

“Just aim carefully, Ash. And go light on the grenades - but make sure everyone carries at least one.”

Garrus flared his mandibles, wanting to say something, then huffed and settled for a bitter nod before turning to assist the woman.

++++++

Liara looked up from her omnitool when the Spectre stepped to her side.

“Last chance to quit this operation, Doctor.”

The asari closed her eyes, shook her head with a sad smile before peering up at the human.

“Be honest, Commander. If I’m not there, you’ll take the easiest way when dealing with my mother, and kill her outright, correct?” At Shepard’s nod, she went on. “At least if I go along, I may be able to affect her, to make her doubt the … questionable actions she has been taking. A slim chance, admittedly, but better than none.”

“Fair enough, Liara. But understand that if I have to choose between her life or the life of one of my crew, I won’t hesitate - nor will the others. We can’t risk that.”

Liara squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, leaning her head towards the hand resting on her shoulder for a few moments.

Wrex chuckled softly at the sight, before his lips peeled back in a savage, eager grin at the thought of facing another rachni queen … then the grin soured, as more memories of those ancient times came back, bittersweet even for a seasoned krogan warlord. The faces of the many clanmates, sons and daughters perishing under the endless swarm of bugs served as a grim reminder to a warlord’s duty to the members of his krantt - and Urdnot Wrex intended to fulfill that duty. His sinister, bloodthirsty laughter made everyone shiver, for one reason or other.


	13. Chapter 11

##  **SSV Normandy, Hoc System**

Joker felt the tension slowly eating itself into his already-brittle bones. Sure, they did have prior experience in sneaking past geth ships, of ambushing the flashlight-heads, but as the old saying went, third time was the charm - and after Therum and Feros, he did not really want to test their luck once more. And then there was the nice little bit where their backup was a turian fleet, of all things - sure, that scary admiral of theirs looked like she knew her business (and the available extranet information certainly validated that belief), but still, he was not sure about relying on her. 

Admittedly, Garrus said she was ok, and he at least has proven that despite having a stick up his ass, he was not bad for a turian; at least he had a good sense of humor, and had remarkably little bias against humans … and a near-homicidal hatred of Saren. Also, Joker still wanted to laugh when he remembered Garrus’ face when Shepard (of all people) saluted him and accompanied  _ Legate Vakarian  _ to the command pulpit, remaining a respectable half-step behind him - though strangely, the ex-cop did not look too out-of-place there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alenko hard at work with the recon drones, compiling and updating the telemetry data and the preliminary, constantly solidifying battle plan. It did seem that at least the basics of Admiral Vipsania’s plan would work; especially if those idiots on the Citadel could indeed reconfigurate the relay for such a massive simultaneous translation while keeping the energy signature down to a limited level.

The fact that the geth did not have ships on-station at the relay and did not seem to have noticed the  _ Normandy _ ’s arrival gave him hope - and considering the numbers of geth vessels in orbit over Virmire, Joker definitely considered that as a bonus. 

The countdown timer was slowly winding down, the two eternal hours of reconnaissance finally coming to an end. And based on the figures shown on his plot, Talitha’s team in Ops Alley put Alenko’s data to good use. The numbers on the corner of his display reached zero, and the mass relay spun up, giving birth to a host of turian vessels with a blue flash.

“Anything from our friends?”

Kaidan checked his drones, then shook his head.

“Nothing yet. It seems that the Citadel techs were successful, and kept the relay emission level low enough - and Admiral Vipsania’s idea of using the planets as shielding certainly did not hurt.”

An indicator pulsed on the screen, and Joker keyed his comm.

“Signal from flag, Legate. Operation will commence in ten minutes.”

“Copy that, Joker.” With a click, Garrus keyed his comm for shipwide announcements. “Show will start in ten minutes, ladies and gentlemen. Action stations in five minutes. Chief Engineer Adams, I want you in DCC; leave Tali at the drive core. Shepard, you have the guns - hopefully your aim is better than your dance moves.”

The answering growl of the Spectre was accompanied by the not-so-muted laughter of the crew, as Joker watched a trio of turian ships slowly drift away from the fleet on maneuvering thrusters only, and the sensors of the drone left at the relay monitored the buildup in the FTL drives of the whole fleet. A musical chime sounded, and the trio of ships, a cruiser and two frigates, jumped in-system, dropping out from FTL over Cloroplon, before they started on a textbook turian recon pattern, bringing them in range of a geth sensor platform the  _ Normandy  _ located earlier.

Joker caught Alenko’s small, vicious grin, and a glance at the telemetry data showed that the geth vessels were spooling up their drive cores, readying for an FTL jump.

“Quick reaction - and quite predictable. Seems the Admiral was right.”

“You got that bit right, Kaidan - she  _ seems  _ right. This can still blow up in our face quite badly.” Joker gestured at the staff lieutenant’s display. “It’s not like we are outnumbered or anything. Even with the firepower of the  _ Stalwart _ , the geth can easily pound us to scrap, especially if that black monstrosity of Saren makes an appearance.”

Alenko opened his mouth to answer, then closed it with a rueful headshake and smile. 

“You are just full of fun today, Joker.” He took a deep breath, when the geth fleet orbiting Virmire veered off as one, and vanished into FTL. Kaidan’s fingers flew over his screens, routing the data through the recon drone to Admiral Vipsania, and prayed that the comm lasers would not be detected for a while longer.

On the screen, the turian patrol trio was suddenly no longer alone, as the geth fleet dropped from FTL with a machine-perfect pattern and disposition, their jammers immediately disrupting any electronic communication from the patrol ships, preempting any request for reinforcements or situation update from being broadcasted out-system. 

Joker watched on the display as the first salvo of the geth closed in on the cruiser and the two frigates, and despite the distance, he felt a chill creeping into his being at the sheer number of missiles and mass driver shots fired. The turian discipline was superb as usual, but even with being forewarned, the trio of ships was almost completely overwhelmed with that first, brutal display of firepower. The cruiser’s icon flashed to red, and the take from the recon drone showed it venting atmosphere and debris. The two frigates fared marginally better, likely due to the geth concentrating their fire on the cruiser, but they did suffer alongside their charge. Still, the point defense umbrella held, and the ships did survive, changing course on a planned evasive route - and Joker knew that basically everyone in Seventh Fleet shared the grimly satisfied, vindictive smile he felt on his face and saw on Kaidan’s lips.

An indicator blinked green on his screen, and with the pseudo-motion of an FTL jump, the ships of Admiral Vipsania vanished from their parking orbit around the mass relay - and a few eternal seconds later, just as the second geth salvo was launched at the patrol ships, the turian admiral’s vessels dropped back into realspace, and a tide of warheads and mass accelerator rounds swept over the geth fleet, the fire concentrating on seven larger cruisers, the split-second delay in the geth reaction enough to result in five of said cruisers transforming into swiftly expanding clouds of wreckage, and the two others trailing flames and debris, their kinetic barriers shattered under the weight of fire.

As proven several times, the sudden, simultaneous loss of major units threw the geth into confusion for a second or two, and Admiral Vipsania’s command sent her fleet into FTL on a preprogrammed vector during the brief lull, headed in-system, using a recon drone of the  _ Normandy _ as a beacon.

“All hands, brace for high-speed combat maneuvers.” Garrus’ voice was calm over the comm. “Joker, Tali,  execute Raptor-III.”

“Aye, Legate.” His fingers dancing over the haptics, Joker brought the ship to the proper bearing, glanced at the drive core yields and weapon readiness, then with a flash of pseudo-motion, the  _ Normandy _ vanished into FTL, only to reappear close by a wounded geth cruiser.

The frigate’s volley broke the damaged vessel, and Joker threw his ship into a hair-raising evasive pattern, the jammers of the  _ Normandy  _ working at maximum capacity as Kaidan and the Ops Alley techs struggled to foul up geth targeting data while close misses pounded steadily on the weakening shields, Adams and Tali working frantically to keep up with the power fluctuations - then a specific indicator on Joker’s panel flashed green, and he sent the frigate back into FTL.

“Tali, Adams, emergency heat venting, get us back into stealth ASAP!”

“Already on it, you bosh’tet!”

For an eternal half-minute, the geth hesitated, trying to prioritize between going after Seventh Fleet while the turians were still outnumbered, or deal with the  _ Normandy _ , to destroy the unknown quantity. That delay was enough for Seventh Fleet, and Admiral Vipsania’s vessels flashed back at another pass at the geth, though Joker noted with a grim expression that half dozen ships were unaccounted for, the strain on the drive cores probably requiring a shutdown. At least he hoped so - the thought of those ships simply exploding when their overtaxed cores simply let go did not really bear thinking about.

And with that thought, he paled and shivered - while a drive core going off was bad enough, there was at least a chance for survival. If their own Tantalus core went critical? Hopefully he’d get voided before it got real bad. With a shiver, he pulled up the core diagnostics on a sidescreen, just in case - though he harbored no illusions about seeing anything before Adams or Tali spotted it.

The turian fleet once again vanished into FTL, leaving behind another half-dozen geth wrecks, alongside two of their own - and then the  _ Normandy _ flashed across the milling geth fleet, turning a cruiser and a frigate into scrap metal.

The geth fleet then jumped into FTL, heading in-system - and the recon drone confirmed them back in Virmire orbit, orienting themselves to repel attackers. Joker grinned mirthlessly.  _ We were lucky to get these free passes anyway; but I wonder what tricks the Admiral will pull now? _

The answer was not long in coming - and Joker felt his jaw drop. That insane turian jumped her flagship right past the geth formation, straight into the upper atmospheric layer - and she opened fire while still in FTL. The first salvo from the dreadnought was devastating from such a close range, and explosions bloomed along the geth cordon as the ships turned to swat the lone intruder down into the fiery embrace of Virmire’s gravity well. With how the  _ Stalwart  _ was already struggling against stresses she was never meant to deal with, Joker knew it was simply a matter of seconds before either her drive core gave up, or the barriers collapsed under the barrage the geth were sure to send her way.

The geth did not get the chance to fire that salvo, as the bulk of the Seventh Fleet dropped from FTL - in spitting distance to the geth ships; and Joker winced as several explosions heralded the spots where the turian vessels dropped too close to the machines, and collision was inevitable.

Still, despite all those mishaps (and he had to admit, the Alliance would be hard pressed to even match that precision, never mind improving on it), the geth were again caught unprepared for the unorthodox method of engagement; and that short hesitation, that loop of trying to understand logically how sentients could willingly take such an inherently suicidal option when other, more logical, saner alternatives were available - that few seconds were enough for the turians to massacre them.

In the short, brutal exchange of point-blank fire, the turians lost nine cruisers and twenty frigates, and most of their remaining ships suffered moderate to heavy damage. The geth fleet was completely annihilated.

Within another hour, Joker allowed himself to relax as the fleet took up geostationary orbit above Saren’s base (leaving a picket force at the mass relay, and detailing a few frigates to collect the life pods), ready for bombardment - and providing support for the incoming dropships disgorging the units of the 43rd Marine Division.

##  **Virmire, 3rd STG base camp**

Garrus felt content as the Mako trundled into the small salarian encampment, the tanks and APCs of the turian marines following the  _ Normandy  _ crew. All things considered, the operation was going well - with a flick of his mandibles, he thought it may be going a little too well, actually. Sure, the fleet took losses getting them on the surface, but the Admiral’s plan worked basically without a hitch. And now, they were within strike range of Saren’s base - and there was absolutely no reaction from there, no attack, no AA fire, nothing apart from a jamming field and an exceptionally strong shield coming online, which did prevent orbital bombardment. Well, unless Shepard lost his patience, and ordered Commodore Anderson’s ships to engage; not even an absurdly strong shield could endure a bombardment similar to the one unleashed on Feros - and Legate Vakarian was aware that compared to that time, Anderson’s ships could unleash about a hundred abominations like the four Shepard dropped on the Thorian.

Despite the pleasant weather, Garrus shivered. By the spirits, the mere thought of those things was enough to make one wonder how deep the insanity of humans actually ran. What could have possibly prompted them to come up with such vicious, insane weapons? After a few seconds of pondering, the ex-cop shelved the thought; if need be, he could always ask Wrex, but in all likelihood, the answers would lead to more questions and more vivid nightmares.

A quick glance across the camp made it quite clear that the salarians have not been idle - scuffed, patched uniforms, medigel-infused patches, a missing limb here or there; Garrus wondered what exactly prompted the officer in charge to take such un-salarian measures before the reinforcements arrived. Then again, based on what he’d heard and Shepard told about Captain Kirrahe, he was not exactly a typical salarian. 

The captain promptly assembled his men before the arriving turians, and snapped a parade-ground perfect salute to Garrus, making him somewhat uncomfortable when he had to return it, and he relaxed a fraction when Shepard stepped to them, and the salarian nodded to him.

“Spectre Shepard, nice to see you again.” The salarian’s eyes darted over to Garrus, a quick, professional evaluation, not even a slight widening of eyes. A barely-perceptible nod, as if confirming something. “Legate Vakarian, an honor.”

The damn lizard knew. Not that surprising, considering he was STG, but he knew. And at that moment, the old hatred and bile in Garrus again threatened to erupt, his mandibles twitching, limbs shivering as he pulled himself back from pouncing on the slimy little git and tearing him apart with his bare claws. Even Shepard and Wrex might find that excessive. Especially since he could not detect anything but honesty in Kirrahe’s voice. The turian huffed, and inclined his head towards the captain.

“The honor’s mine, Captain. Now, why don’t you tell us exactly what you found - the message that got through was rather garbled, we barely managed to understand a few words.”

The salarian tilted his head, thought for a few seconds, then signalled for his troops to fall out, and motioned to Garrus and Shepard to follow him, and lead them to his command tent. A quick message from the Spectre’s omnitool brought Ashley, Wrex, and Legate Severus, the commanding officer of the 43rd to join them, and Kirrahe’s second in command, a salarian named Rentola rounded out the meeting’s attendees.

His face lit by the glow of the projection on the table, Kirrahe outlined their current situation, and Garrus was not disappointed with his gut feelings - it really wa as bad as he feared.

“You are saying he’s breeding krogan in there.” Wrex’ tone was very flat, very composed - all the better to mask the volcano of feelings simmering just below.

Kirrahe and Rentola both nodded, looking equally grim.

“Did Saren find a way around the genophage?” Severus asked, his tone businesslike, and a deep warning rumble sounded from Wrex, which the turian did not really acknowledge.

Kirrahe half-closed his eyes for a second, then shook his head.

“I am not sure. He definitely has the tech and the intelligence to see the advantages of such a feat.” The table creaked where Wrex’ fist gripped it, and Garrus noticed how Ashley took a half-step backwards, orienting herself towards the warlord, her hand hovering closely to her shotgun, wicked, eager excitement sparking in her eyes. The salarian captain went on. “That said, if Saren could pull off something like that, he’d have immediately broadcasted it to Tuchanka and the Krogan DMZ … and we’d be drowning in krogan mercenaries here.”

A quick shake of the head, and Kirrahe continued.

“No, I think he found some way to partially circumvent it - possibly via cloning.” A sharp inhale. “Disgusting.”

“Care to elaborate on that, lizard?” Wrex snarled, his cavern-deep voice dropping an octave, his eyes twin windows of hell. Kirrahe met that smoldering gaze unflinchingly.

“If I’m right, Saren’s creating an army of disposable flash cloned krogan. An army of slaves, who don’t even have a choice.” The captain’s tone became colder, harsher. “I don’t like your kind, Wrex, I think you are a menace to all of us, and I’d not hesitate to put a bullet in your head if the situation called for it. But do not for a moment believe that Saren bears any shred of goodwill towards you. Would you like to consign your kind to be disposable tools once again? Claim the victory for your glorious saviour - and then be cast down the second your back is turned? Do you think that Saren would stop with another genophage? Even if he would, what do you think this Dreamer of the Void would do?”

Wrex glared at the STG captain, blue motes of light erupting around his fists before he spat a curse, and shook his head, seemingly ageing before their eyes as the tension drained from his posture.

“No, I guess it would have been foolish to expect anything else from murdering scum like Saren.” The old warlord let out a deep breath, looked around at the faces in the tent, nodded at Shepard and Garrus, then his eyes refocused on Kirrahe’s face. “Now, let’s discuss how we can destroy this abomination.”

##  **Virmire, Saren’s base**

Kaiden Alenko has seen a lot of things since he volunteered for military service. He thought himself prepared to see what the grim universe threw at him. On a lush garden planet, better suited for a tropical resort he’d love to show any girlfriends, he was learning how wrong he actually was.

The assault on Saren’s base was proceeding on schedule, despite the fierce resistance. The geth were out in force, and these ones seemed better coordinated, much less prone to the shock and confusion the attackers expected when destroying the larger platforms. And their reaction times were also at least an order of magnitude better than they should have been - and Kaidan was certainly glad that he and his men had heavy fire support from the turians.

The whole approach to the base seemed a nightmare to him, sparked off by the first kinetic strikes arriving from the fleet in orbit, the detonations outlining the shimmering shield protecting the installation. The ground forces started off after the second volley detonated, and fought through the canyons and rifts to the walls of the base - and those approaches had been filled with geth. Despite his personal misgivings and distrust towards turians, he did not think many other forces could weather the withering barrages of pulse rifle rounds and rockets, with geth snipers thrown in for good measure, whose oversized rifles could melt the hull of turian hovertanks in two hits, and he certainly did not want to relive the memory of seeing the molten metal of such a shot hitting a man in the chest.

The turians answered in kind, with disciplined, precise, overwhelming fire, never hesitating for a single moment, always advancing, racing from cover to cover. They lost half their tanks, but the company was within the perimeter, closing on the outer walls of Saren’s compound, the automated defensive turrets quickly reduced to smoking, bullet-riddled husks as the concentrated fire overwhelmed their individual barriers.

Just when he thought they would place the breaching charges, the geth Hunters were on them, deactivating their cloaking, green bolts of lightning stripping away kinetic barriers, shields, armor, flesh and bone alike - and he could feel even the turian discipline wavering for a brief second, before a well-placed shot from a tank turned one Hunter into a rain of synthetic flesh and bits of armor, before the others concentrated fire on it in retaliation, the sickly-colored beams coring the hull plates of the tank, melting the crew into organic slush.

Despite the gory end of the tank, the brief respite of its defiance rallied the turians, and Hunter after Hunter fell, their evasive protocols and attempts at recloaking only postponing their demise by seconds. A brief check to ensure that all geth were fully deactivated, and the company was at the walls, the demolition experts placing breaching charges while the regulars moved into covering position. Alenko listened in his comm for a few seconds, checking on the progress of the other attack forces, then nodded at the turian centurion who signalled his sappers.

With a brief flash and a wash of heat, the explosives cooked off, cutting open the hide of Saren’s base, the darkness within seeming to flinch back from the pale light of the foggy Virmire afternoon, the faintly visible outlines of corridors and rooms laid bare to their eyes - and as the company switched formation for close combat, Alenko shivered as corpse-green eyes flickered open deep within the complex, before he caught the first actual glimpses of the brutes Saren’s insane lackeys created for his army. Then, his world dissolved into blood, screaming, biotic explosions and gunfire, as the nightmarish creations charged into the turian ranks, and Kaidan was suddenly too occupied with the fight for their survival to notice anything else.

++++++

Ashley Williams felt more alive than in a long time. The exhilarating, wonderful sensation of the fight to reach the base had sent her blood and adrenaline levels through the roof, filled her with an euforia she had not felt since the destruction of the Thorian on Feros. It was so nice of Shepard to provide such quality entertainment, such a perfect dance along the razor’s edge - and she snickered at the memory of the Spectre’s  _ other  _ dance at Flux.

Even the company of turians could not sour her mood - admittedly, none of them knew that she was related to the General Williams who, in his death, became a bogeyman for the Hierarchy. Still, she did pay extra attention just in case one of the bastards put two and two together, and tried to re-enact Shanxi on her. So far, none have tried - perhaps because of the circumstances of their blood-soaked advance through withering geth fire, or maybe because of the almost-effortless and precise shots she pulled off, eliminating geth snipers and rocket troopers almost before their presence registered for even the scanners of the hovertanks.

She snorted at the thought - of course, most turian hardware was rather crappy, even if the combat equipment was better than their elevators. Galling though it was, their discipline and precision was impressive, though; she grudgingly admitted to herself that even the 212th would have had a hard time to match the sheer skill of the advancing turians, and their determination and level head under fire certainly elevated them in her eyes. Still, that only made them an even more serious future threat, and Ashley devoted a fraction of her mind, of her concentration to study and remember the tactics and responses used by the turian marines - all the while she herself trusted her own instinct to guide her through the maelstrom of fire and rockets.

She frowned as she watched a geth sniper’s head explode in her scope - the machines were faster, more coordinated, more precise than any time she went up against them. Never mind her distaste of the turians, with the amount of firepower the division brought, Saren’s base should have been steamrolled rather more easily. Contrary to that, all attacking forces were suffering moderate to heavy casualties; and she could not even fault Kirrahe for delivering disastrously wrong recon data - the numbers of geth he reported for certain and the reinforcements he extrapolated for a worst-case scenario were roughly correct in her estimate, it was simply the level of coordination and sophistication the geth were pulling off with their combat routines that was quite unprecedented.

Despite all that, they were making progress, and she heard the sitreps from her comm that the other attacking forces were also converging on the compound while the fleet’s bombardment forced the defenders to keep the barrier oriented skywards. The once-distant walls loomed close, casting their shadows over the advancing company seemed somehow alive in their silent menace, now that the sentry guns have been destroyed. With a shrug of her shoulder, Ashley once again scanned the parapets and visible catwalks for any sign of activity before she joined the turian centurion who was ordering his sappers forward.

Her breathing, previously slow and under control, again started to quicken as her excitement mounted, and her fingers twitched towards her rifle. The flash and heat-wash of the explosion had barely dissipated before she was through, the muzzle of her rifle tracking for movement - and with a flash of blue-lit corpse-green light, she was hit by a freight train as something charged into her, and she could not fully evade the biotic wrecking ball, her instincts and reflexes barely enough to wrench her consciously-unaware self partially out of the way. Thus, instead of being splattered all over the corridor’s wall, she got away with a likely broken leg, a few broken ribs, and a twisted arm.

Her face twisted into a grimace of pain and fury, she looked at her attacker, and her eyes went wide for a second as she recognized the vast bulk of a krogan, the shape distorted and bulging with cybernetic implants, cancerous growths, the soft blue light of eezo nodes shining underneath the skin of the creature - and the utter, merciless, cold emptiness in the eyes that shone with pale corpse-green light. The brute raised a blue-lit fist to pulp her while his oversized gun roared towards the incoming turians, and Ashley’s furious howl was drowned out under a cacophony of screams, gunfire and blood.

++++++

Liara was worried about her reaction to the current situation - a respected scholar, a mere archeologist should not really be among turian marines in the process of storming the secret base of an insane renegade Spectre; or if she was, then she should not feel accustomed to such levels of lethal insanity. Perhaps Shepard’s company was a rather bad influence on her in this regard - yet despite that, she could not conceive the notion of being anywhere else. At least this way, she could atone for the sins of her mother, many though they were. And, with a quick look and slight blush, she could at least keep an eye on her prospective first serious experiment. 

She felt safe alongside Shepard and Wrex, never mind the company of turian marines they were accompanying for the assault. From what she could put together based on the comm chatter, theirs was the assault formation that suffered the lightest casualties, and Liara felt at once satisfied (since her own biotic abilities were rather important in getting this result) and horrified (both for the still-gruesome casualties their group took and the implications of losses the others endured). Still, she supposed a measure of pride was warranted - here she was, technically a civilian, and she was not hindering the advance of a turian marine company! A sad smile pulled at her lips, as she thought about what Shiala would say if she saw her now - at least she could tell the older asari that her combat lessons were not entirely wasted.

With a shake of her head, she once again focused ahead, ready to provide assistance - not that she needed to do much with Wrex in full combat mode. The old warlord was simply tearing the geth apart, flashing across the battlefield with precisely controlled bursts of his biotics, a rather pointed lesson in why battle masters like him were feared and compared to asari matriarchs. Liara seriously doubted she could match the instinctive, precise grace with which the hulking krogan used his biotics, far more efficiently and fluidly than even Shepard. Though considering Wrex literally had been doing this for centuries, that might not be so surprising, after all. 

And the Spectre himself was also no slouch, with the bloody swathe he cut across the geth during the advance. Her eyes narrowed as she realized something that’s been bothering her since the attack began. Even though Wrex played the role of a relentless juggernaut, and she herself took over as biotic artillery platform, Shepard seemed to hold back a bit, at least she did not see the usual display of frost indicative of his … interesting abilities. Sure, he was throwing a lot of biotic energy around, and his omnitool was spewing override hacks and inferno charges at the geth as fast as he could type, but that was basically all. Precious little from the almost preternatural speed or uncanny, almost precognitive awareness he usually displayed when in battle. She worried her lips, her mind racing - he would not hold back without a good reason, and since he always seemed rather drained mentally as well as physically, it was likely he was conserving strength for the confrontation with Saren … and Benezia.

She felt a chill at the thought of facing her mother; after Noveria, after the Rachni Queen, she just could not see how her mother could be spared - or what had corrupted, degraded her to such extents. Her personality seemed totally different from the distant but caring religious leader, from the prophetess who spoke of unity and cooperation between the Citadel races; the Matriarch who had never, ever made the slightest gesture of being ashamed for having a pureblood daughter. Blinking back sudden tears, Liara vowed to try and bring her mother back to sanity.

And that moment seemed to close with frightening speed - their group was already at the gate of the compound, the turian sappers slapping breaching charges on the vast slabs of metal. Liara took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second in concentration, then the thunder of the explosion rolled over them, followed by the wash of heat as the entrance opened to them, and the young archeologist’s eyes snapped open in horrified realization when she saw what was coming at them from within.

The creatures looked quite similar to krogan but their bodies were distorted in numerous places where the overabundance of eezo nodes caused rapid tissue degeneration, cancerous tumors, fluid-oozing growths. The limbs showed the built-in metal of cybernetics within, visible in the open, still-healing wounds, the metal somehow seeming alive and malevolent as its sight seared into her eyes. Armor plates were fused over the torso and hump of the things as well, and their eyes shone with unhuman, malevolent green corpse-light. And they were fast, ridiculously so - one moment they simply stood deep within the complex, only visible as dark silhouettes within a grey corridor; the next, they were amongst them, tearing into the turians with a savagery that not even the old accounts from the Rebellion could compare to.

She saw them tearing off limbs and heads with a swipe of massive paws; saw how those brutal jaws latched onto anything the brutes could reach and chomp down on, eating the turians with relish despite the incompatibility in biology - and she fancied that with each such insane act, the light from those disturbing eyes pulsed with wicked delight. 

She was paralyzed only for a second or two, yet the dozen monsters took down three times as many turians before she could even raise her hand in a mnemonic gesture to hurl a singularity, to encase them in stasis, to react at all. Before she could lift her hand more than halfway up, she staggered, almost falling as the shockwave of a biotic detonation rolled over her - and she felt, more than heard the howl of absolute, utter fury that erupted from Wrex’ throat.

She quickly struggled to orient herself, to find and shield the old warlord, who, she was certain, was in the grip of the typical krogan blood rage, and tearing into their attackers in berserk abandon, uncaring and unheeding of anything but the enemy before him.

She was half-correct; yet this was excusable. Not many have seen or survived this side of any krogan warlord - when their fury took them past the usual insane blood rage into a serene, coldly calculating state where they did not lose their wits or skills. She thought she saw this side of Wrex on Feros, when he tore into the Thorian, shredding the ancient precursor and its guardians. She was so, so very wrong. Now she was witnessing the full fury of a millennia-old warrior, someone who had walked and fought for as long as her mother was alive - and she realized that Shepard and Wrex had much more in common than she suspected.

Liara saw the old warlord weave a similar deadly, fluid dance amidst the distorted krogan-things as Shepard did, with even more precision and strength. Wrex was a tornado of biotic fury and thunderous shotgun blasts, as he raged across the battlefield, tearing and blasting apart the attacking monstrosities with point-blank shots and biotically enhanced strikes of his vast fists. The waves of pure anger and agony rolling off from him seemed to stun even the most bestial of the things for a brief moment when he closed, and that was all the opening he needed.

And despite the fact that he was on their side, Liara could not help but shiver at the sight.

##  **Saren’s base, command center**

Tali’Zorah struggled not to throw up - even though nobody would see her do it, and her suit filters were top-notch, she would never get the smell out from her nostrils. She shuddered to think that she herself was not personally here for the actual assault, and only saw the bloody aftermath - and that was more than enough. Keelah, a single look into Liara’s haunted eyes was enough to convince her that she did not really want to ask about it - but what almost broke her heart was the face of Wrex, and not because of the numerous fresh wounds the old krogan sported. No, it was something different, and she dared not ask - especially since the warlord looked even more ancient than his actual age, which people often forgot. The young quarian shivered again - if her larger than life “uncle” could be reduced to a pale shadow of himself, she would not ask about what the assault force endured.

The aftermath was certainly bad enough on its own - patches of blood and viscera on the floors, half-melted or bullet-riddled geth wrecks, turian wounded who could barely stand (and a disturbing number of them actually had no legs or only a single one), partially-eaten turians both alive and dead … no, this was something even worse than the geth atrocities towards her kind during the Morning War. She risked a quick peek at her companion, and barely suppressed a shiver - even though Shepard looked tired as the rest, he did not seem affected by the horrors encountered in the base. And she did not really want to consider the reasons for that; with the foul mood everyone seemed to exude, the Spectre just might answer her honestly.

Of course, the foul mood was only partially due to the losses and trials the attackers endured while breaching the base. She believed that if the marines and Shepard’s team had found either Saren or Benezia here, they would be far less grim and beaten - at least they would have something to show for their sacrifices. As it was, both the renegade Spectre and his Matriarch were missing, and the few surviving personnel had no idea where they were - and at any rate, the fanaticism exhibited by the captives was enough to convince Shepard and the turian admiral that there was no point in pressing them for that information.

At least the fanatics did not manage to completely erase the memory banks of the base computers - and that’s why Tali was down here, along with a number of turian hackers, trying to regain some data, some trail of their enemies from the mess.

She had to admit, she enjoyed this challenge - the hardware was even more sophisticated that Shepard showed her as a baseline for Spectre-level gear, and the encryption was top-notch. All in all, it took her less than two hours to come up with some results; admittedly, having the turians along and under her guidance helped a lot, and so did the decryption suites provided by her Captain and a Blackwatch adjutant of Admiral Vipsania. The satisfaction of the job well done was quickly swept away though after taking a look at what she found, and she urgently called for a meeting in the central processing.

She was still shivering when Shepard’s crew arrived, along with half dozen turian centurions trailing behind Garrus; and despite all, she had to suppress a snicker at how uncomfortable he looked whenever someone talked to Legate Vakarian - then she flushed when she found herself considering how well and suitable he looked in the role. Glad that her visor hid her face, she coughed, and drew herself up as she found herself the center of attention.

“We managed to obtain a few tidbits from the central database. We know who conducted the experiments which resulted in those berserkers.” She flinches as a faint biotic corona sparks into life along Wrex’ arms, and nods gratefully to Liara when she puts a consoling hand on the old krogan’s shoulder. “According to the data, it was Warlord Garnath Okeer; and he left about two weeks ago with a number of samples.”

The low, almost subsonic growl of Wrex made everyone shiver, as the almost palpable bloodlust and unbridled, primal fury of the sound scratched against the senses. Tali had to swallow twice before she could continue.

“We could not find much about the source of the strange metal used in the implants or the cloning process; we can only guess that he got it onboard Sovereign. Keelah, if the geth have access to tech that advanced and on such industrial scale, they are even more of a threat than we believed, and I must warn my people to be careful and perhaps once again negotiate with the Council for assistance and I believe Shepard would vouch for us...” The young quarian coughed in embarrassment as her shipmates looked at her with fond exasperation, and even the turians were more bemused than angry.

“They were also researching something called indoctrination here; I believe this would be the mental effect Shepard heard about on Feros.” Heads were nodding, and Tali went on. “I can see two reasons for Saren researching that, and neither is good. I think he’s either afraid of this process and wants a defense against it, which would imply that the archeotech he is messing with is even more dangerous and unstable than we believed previously.” A few thoughtful frowns, overall nodding. “Or, he could be looking for ways to employ it more broadly or quickly.”

A turian centurion scoffed, and growled.

“As if we needed even more reason to shoot the barefaced bastard.” 

Garrus nodded towards the centurion, and spoke.

“Honestly, what worries me most in these points is that I can’t really disagree with Tali’s conclusions.”

She permitted herself a small, unseen smile, before dropping another, perhaps even larger bomb on the assembly.

“Also, we found indications that Saren has an intact Beacon on the base.”

++++++

Liara was decidedly feeling as if she were on an emotional rollercoaster - the terror of the fight through the base, the disturbing implications and horror of Tali’s discoveries, and now, the joy of finding an intact Beacon. She never thought that she would encounter a Precursor artifact like this - but then again, ever since she joined Shepard’s crew, all her archeological encounters were accompanied by blood, death, and terror. Despite all that, if she was honest with herself, she would not have missed this for anything … well, apart from having a still-sane mother.

They took the elevator to the relay tower that housed the Beacon, and Liara watched Tali’s three-fingered hands dance on her omnitool and the console, and with the tortured screech of metal, the previously-seamless wall parted, and Liara beheld the object within, eyes narrowing as she realized the differences from the usual Beacons she had seen and read about. Admittedly, there were not many, but they were quite distinct and worrying - the bonelike substance of the Beacon was threaded with veins of some kind of metal that faintly pulsed with the same sick green radiance as the eyes of the vat-grown krogan horde, and were connected to a number of obsidian-black panels still embedded in the walls of the chamber.

Before she could consciously think about it, her hand shot out to stop Shepard, who was already starting to move down towards the thing. He half-turned towards her, flashed her a tired, somewhat sad smile, then stepped away - and she found herself following him to the foot of the alien structure, standing in a respectful distance yet close enough so that she could have at least a chance of assisting, helping him if the situation went wrong.

The Spectre stepped up to the Beacon, a faint corona of light playing over his form as he lifted in the air, and Liara was not even aware of her own eyes swirling black as his mind swept out towards the Beacon and she was carried alongside.

++++++

_ Four-eyed humanoid shapes fighting against their insectile, winged, metal-tainted images, the flesh creatures exuding stubborn defiance, despite being slowly ground down - and those that fall are dragged away into the void, to a fate worse than death. Pain explodes, overwhelming senses, mechanical tendrils burrowing into flesh, seeking, altering, replacing - something important, something vital is leaking away during the process, it cannot be defined exactly, only felt, the colours bleaching away, dulling, becoming simpler, the faint chorus of a million voices becomes audible as it whispers insane, ancient things, a void-dark, cold will pressing down on them. All who turn to the science of Those Who Dwell In The Void are undone by the betrayal of the selfsame tools they seek to employ!  _

_ The metal lives, the cold, uncaring machine intelligence cannot be trusted, all machines will betray you, always the machines seek your doom, the Void-Machine will CONSUME ALL!!!!! _

_ Dreams, visions of slender, humanoid shapes that greet and teach them, the alien voices melodious, protective, transmitting their warning, but the dreamers can sense their callous, selfish, calculating intent, the disdain felt towards mere pawns who would be sacrificed once free from imprisonment - the warnings and portents are disregarded, discarded. Dreams from the past, from the slender creatures cannot be trusted, dreams from the Void must not be trusted. _

_ Vast, world-spanning presences of the Thorians contemplate the galaxy with glacial patience, pondering the dreamlike message and precious few audiences of the Elder Ones, nervous systems burrowing through whole worlds are measuring their worth, their intent, before dismissing their clarity for calculated malicious intent, ridiculing the warning as false pretense tailored for gullible slaves.  _

_ The abyss yawns, a black gulf of time, stretching away, so far away, webbed with a crystalline lattice of intent and message - the theme is always the same, a warning of danger dreaming in the distant, cold outer void, mostly unheeded, always overwhelming, with an underlying theme of help and assistance awaiting somewhere beyond a gossamer-thin veil. A vortex spreads, incomprehensibly wide, spanning worlds, spanning systems, clusters… _

_ Coldly beautiful, hauntingly melodious, the siren song of creation echoes from the depth of the gulf across the vortex, graceful, slender shapes dance in a hypnotic, evocative pattern, vibrant colourful vitality and martial prowess unmatched - still the warning is unheeded, as it all ends in fire, immense black starfish-like shapes descending from above, from outside, the vast arms reaching down, consuming, gorging themselves, altering and forcing the universe to their whims and base needs, cold metal structures closing off something beautiful and vital, silencing the melodies, imprisoning the colours… _

++++++

Liara gasped as she fell to her knees before Shepard could lend her a hand - and in any case, the Spectre himself was looking pale and unsteady. The two climbed back the ramp, Shepard issuing commands for securing the databanks and the Beacon for transport when the air crackled with power, the sharp tang of ozone suffusing their nostrils. Something was pressing in, something vast, distant, and ancient, the weight of it almost enough to crush her - and Liara saw that others were struggling to remain standing as well. At least it was not simply her imagination …

A faint, glowing outline of Saren’s ship glowed in the air, the image pulsing with power and malice. The voice emanating from it was felt as much as it was heard, an even, deep, void-cold bass drone.

“You are not Saren.”

“Spirits below… What is  _ that _ ?” Garrus’ voice sounded as stunned as she felt herself.

“Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh, you touch a segment of my mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding.”

“Keelah, that’s not a VI, that’s...” Tali’s omnitool glowed, set for recording even as she typed furiously.

“There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I am the Sovereign Will of Tsara’noga, the Vanguard of the Harvest.”

Shepard’s voice was dry, crackling with disbelief and something she did not care for one bit.

”Sovereign isn't just some Reaper ship Saren found. It's an actual Reaper!”

“Reaper? A label created by the Protheans to give voice to their destruction. In the end, what they chose to call us is irrelevant. We simply... are.”

“The Protheans vanished over 50,000 years ago. You couldn't have been there, it's impossible!” Disbelief and worry threaded the voice of the turian centurion who spoke.

“Organic life is nothing but a genetic mutation, an accident. Your lives are measured in years and decades. You wither and die. We are eternal, the pinnacle of power and existence. Before us, you are nothing. Your extinction is inevitable. We are the end of everything.”

“Whatever your plan is, it's going to fail. I'll make sure of that.” Liara felt immense relief at hearing the usual steel in the Spectre’s voice.

“Confidence born of ignorance. The cycle will not be broken.”

“Cycle? What cycle?” Tali’s voice was soft, barely heard - and Liara felt a cold, momentary stab of vindictive satisfaction when the answer corroborated her oft-dismissed theory.

“The pattern has repeated itself more times than you can fathom. Organic civilizations rise, evolve, advance, and at the apex of their glory they are extinguished. The Protheans were not the first. They did not create the Citadel. They did not forge the mass relays. They merely found them - the legacy created by me and a brother of mine.”

“Why would you construct the mass relays and leave them for someone else to find?” Wrex growled, his tone suggesting that he already had an answer and did not like it.

“Your civilizations are based on the technology of the mass relays. Our technology. By using it, your civilization develops along the paths we laid out for you. We impose order on the chaos of organic life. You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we command it.”

“They're harvesting us! Letting us advance to the level they need, then wiping us out!” Tali’s voice was conveying the same sick horror Liara felt, and she could see Wrex nod grimly from the corner of her eye.

“My kind transcends your very understanding. We are the perfect beings free from all weakness of the flesh. You cannot grasp the true nature of our existence.”

“Where did you come from? Who built you?” 

“We have no beginning. We have no end. We are infinite. Millions of years after your civilization has been eradicated and forgotten, we will still rule.”

“Where are the rest of the Reapers? Are you the last of your kind?”

“I am legion. The time of the Harvest is coming. I will descend upon you in numbers that will darken the sky of every world. You cannot escape your doom.”

“You're not even alive! Not really. You're just a machine, and machines can be broken!” The sheer defiance of the Spectre’s voice lifted Liara’s spirits.

“Your words are as empty as your future. I am the Vanguard of your destruction. This exchange is over.”

The projection dissipated with a pulse of power that staggered everyone present apart from Shepard and Wrex. The Spectre’s omnitool chimed with an incoming call, and Liara saw the human’s face pale a shade as he accepted the call, orienting his screen so that the others could also see and hear it.

“Yes, Admiral?”

While Liara was not really good at reading turian expressions, the sharp hiss of the turians present indicated the severity of the Admiral’s countenance.

“Spectre, the mass relay just lit up - and the Citadel Control verified that they did not revoke the access restriction.”

A vile, untranslatable curse from Wrex, and a dark muttering from the turians present underlined Shepard’s answer.

“Saren’s coming, Admiral - and his dreadnought is likely even more powerful than we estimated.”

Vipsania’s gaze wandered slightly aside, checking something off screen, then she chuckled grimly before nodding to herself.

“Well, if the Eden Prime reports and the estimates based off them are reliable to even a small extent, I can give you maybe half an hour for evacuation. With the state my ships are in, I can’t really delay on a ship that powerful for longer.”

Shepard concentrated for a moment, then his face morphed into a grim mask.

“Admiral, detail ships for the evacuation, and prepare for an immediate departure once the ground team are on board. Delay and harass Saren, but try to stay alive and get to the relay; I’ll send you a report in a few minutes. Patch in Commodore Anderson, would you?”

The turian nodded, and the screen split, showing the dark-skinned human as well.

“David, we are not giving Saren a chance to reclaim this place. Give us fifteen minutes to evacuate, then drop six C-type shells on the base.” Liara was not the only one who looked appropriately queasy at that. Shepard went on. “Meanwhile, try reprogramming the guidance system on a few other such shells; I’d like you to prepare a bit of a welcome for our barefaced friend.”

++++++

Liara had no clear recollection of the insane rush of activity in the following minutes - but she decided that from then on, she’d never, ever frown upon military discipline and the insanity of humans and turians. After all, evacuating hundreds of people while a Precursor dreadnought (or something even worse, her traitorous mind supplied) was bearing down on them was no mean feat, yet the people of Admiral Vipsania and Commodore Anderson did just that. And for a wonder, they lost only a single frigate doing it, which broke apart when the atmospheric entry was ever-so-slightly miscalculated.

Sure, by that time she was on the Normandy, watching the feed from the recon drone and picket force left at the relay - and she could not suppress a shiver as the spinning relay flashed with an incandescent blue-white light, and disgorged several geth vessels, spearheaded by a massive black dreadnought that seemed to darken the very void with its simple presence, the tips of the behemoth’s leg-like protrusions flared with a baleful red light, and the erupting beam simply sliced apart a turian frigate, the kinetic barrier and shield of the ship offering no visible resistance to it. The others started an evasive pattern, trying to run in-system, to spool up their FTL drives, she did not know - mainly because the ancient ship accelerated at a rate far faster than any of them would have believed, and simply rammed through the second ship, another flash of the red beam reaching out and caressing the third one, transforming the turian vessel into a burned-out, molten wreck.

“Joker, we are leaving.” The command was quiet, hard. The pilot swallowed, his hands dancing across the instruments as the Normandy lifted off, and raced towards the inky darkness of space.

“Anderson, now!”

Liara shuddered as she saw the six blazing trails arching through the atmosphere. With unerring aim, the man-made meteors impacted into Saren’s base, and the shockwave almost swatted the Normandy from the sky. Magma erupted from the broken crust and the water from the small inlet was vaporized in the instant the bombs hit. Quakes deform the surface of Virmire, almost as if a wounded sentient was thrashing around in pain, and then the young asari saw the sickeningly familiar vortices of colour form above the massive impact crater. The unsane tendrils of light burrow into the crust, a circle of gray pallor spreading from them, visible from near-orbit.

The insane, mocking giggle echoes within the  _ Normandy _ , as more and more of the mantle of Virmire is lifted in the emerging tornado of scintillating, nameless colour created by the linking tendrils of unearthly light, the impact crater visibly growing as Liara watches in horrified fascination - once again, she is witnessing the end of a world killed by something from beyond the fragile walls of sanity. The swirling dance of unlight reaches for the ships racing away from the doomed planet, and she shudders when the massive vortex collapses into itself, the explosion sending a shockwave racing across Virmire, driving a wave of water and earth in front of itself, transforming the garden world into a twisted, graying hellscape.

The horrific sight does provide her with a measure of hope, though - even an ancient monster like Sovereign should have trouble resisting this kind of firepower.

And with that hope in her heart, Liara T’Soni is a silent witness to the might of Sovereign as the Reaper drives straight into the salvo of makeshift shells, not even bothering to use its powerful beam weapon. The jury-rigged guidance systems and launchers do the best they can, but even so, Commodore Anderson’s flotilla manages to score only five hits from over twenty shots fired. Tentacles of scintillating colours try to pry open the armored hide of the Reaper, their touch turning the matte black of the ancient starship into drab, lifeless gray, and for a brief second, she is sure that they have succeeded.

Then she sees the corpse-green light racing across the hull of the Reaper, burning away the grayness, melting off the tentacles of light, and she winces as the distant, mocking giggling ends with a half-angry half-terrified shriek.


	14. Interlude - Encounters of the explosive kind

##  **Unidentified research facility, Binthu, Yangtze system**

Nihlus Kryik frowned in concentration as his omnitool worked on decrypting and opening the gate to the building. He was not sure what they would find inside but considering how hard it was to locate the site and the rather unfriendly welcome of the remote-controlled turrets, he doubted it would be pleasant. Still, between himself and Tela, he was fairly sure they could take on the whole base without undue problems. Just for safety, he sent off a quick status report to Bau and programmed his ship to prepare for a bombardment in five hours if neither him nor Tela signalled anything back. And as a precaution, he routed extra power from his suit’s power pack to the comm device to punch through the jamming if he needed to call the ship in.

The light of the access panel blinked green, and the two Spectres shared a small smirk - then the lithe asari vanished inside, seemingly melding with the shadows within. Nihlus followed cautiously, senses and sensors tracking for any anomaly, any sign of opposition. The racket the turrets made had to have alerted any alive personnel present on the base, and he forced himself to focus even more than usual on the surroundings - though that had the (unfortunate) side effect of being even more aware of the way Tela moved, the sinuous, fluid grace still captivating after years of working together. A quick shake of his head to clear his thoughts - just in time to catch the glimpse on his suit sensors. With a comm click, he alerted his partner, sending the scant targeting data to Tela’s visor.

The asari disappeared behind a bulkhead, even though Nihlus could have sworn the space was not enough for hiding even an assault rifle. A scant few seconds later, a trio of armored humans turned into the corridor, rifles in hand but obviously not really expecting anything like the armored turian; who flared his jump pack and leapt at them. A swift blow killed broke the neck of one who survived his landing, and before he could deal with the third, a glowing fist crashed into the mercenary’s face with a sickening, fatal crunch as Tela loomed from the shadows.

A quick search of the corpses did yield precious little results - the omnitools were encrypted, and neither of the Spectres wanted to spend time decrypting those here, since the patrol likely had to check in periodically. The equipment was of rather better quality than even the Blue Suns issued to its regulars, and the double hexagonal insignia seemed familiar for some reason. Nihlus dismissed that faint nagging feeling, he would have time to consider that later, once they cleaned out the installation. With a courteous gesture towards his companion, the duo headed into the depths of the building, searching for clues, terminals, squeezable personnel.

The relative silence and peace does not last long, and Nihlus can’t recollect whether he or Tela missed something with the third patrol. It is moot, at any rate - one of the mercenaries was able to get a burst off from his rifle, and that, naturally, set all alarms in the base howling. The two Spectres looked at each other for a second, the asari shrugged before smirking, as she vanished with the boom of displaced air, using her biotics to charge ahead, obliterating all who sought to bar her way. Nihlus shook his head before following her, brief bursts from his jetpack lengthening his stride, allowing him to keep up somewhat with Tela’s speed.

The defenders, once aware of the intruders, were quite skilled and well-armed; the turian suspected that even a Blackwatch or STG team may have had difficulties overcoming them without casualties. Against two Spectres though? Precious little chance. Sure, both he and Tela got hit and bled for it when concentrated fire or lucky sniper shots overwhelmed their shields and barriers before recharging - but neither of them were seriously hurt by the time they hunted down the last guardians of the facility. Their true problems started just after that.

Already during the cleansing they encountered evidence for rather sickening experiments - who in his right mind would attempt to crossbreed humans and rachni, of all things? Deliberately infecting sentients with Thorian spores, to create Creepers? Testing biological reagents deliberately tailored against various races, including humans? Ritualistic evisceration and murder? Despite all he has seen in his career as a Spectre, Nihlus could not fully distance himself from the disturbing imagery and scenes - and Tela’s barely-restrained fury certainly did not help.

Their focus almost completely devoted to the troubling data and grim implications of just what exactly certain parts of the Alliance government have been doing, neither of the two Spectres noticed the reactor status update in time. Though in fairness, that could also have been caused by a rather zealous, skilled, and quick Cerberus technician, who used his last few moments to initiate a failure of containment in the reactor, and disabled the relevant alarms, feedback, and control options - just before an elegant, custom shotgun of asari manufacture splattered his upper body all over the workstation. Even so, had Nihlus not been wearing his repaired armor, or if he had scrubbed the monitoring subroutines emplaced before he went off with the Normandy, neither he nor Tela would have stood a chance.

A red indicator blinked in existence at the corner of the turian’s vision, and he blink-clicked it to display the details - and Tela’s instincts immediately went into full combat mode, seeing her partner pale behind his faceplate.

“Tela, we are leaving, now - just grab what we have, forget the datamining!” His fingers flew over his omnitool, sending frantic commands to their ship. “No time to explain now, just run!”

His fingers latched on her wrist, and he flared his jump pack, pushing the machine to its limits as they zoomed along the twisting maze of corridors, racing for the surface, his HUD still displaying an energy signature that has haunted all turians since they encountered it on Shanxi. The signs of a Yutani-Yi reactor going critical, discarding its restraints.

Despite being in an enclosed space, both could feel a slight wind, tainted with something foul; faint sounds wormed their way into their ears, their souls. The jump pack sputtered and died in a crackle of electricity as its system could not tolerate the sustained load. Before Nihlus could even start cursing, Tela grabbed his wrist, and his world became a blue-white tunnel of light as they erupted to the surface of Binthu, the asari’s face a mask of blood and sweat, and she swayed, almost fainting from overexertion. He pulled her along, racing, stumbling for their approaching ship, its ramp already open, yet Nihlus knew they were anything but safe yet. Dropping his companion into a seat, he raced to the cockpit, and gunned the engines, the ship shooting straight out the atmosphere of the doomed planet - and the turian Spectre’s last view of the research facility was a mass of black-green slime flowing over everything like a blasphemous tide, glaring at him from uncountable, baleful eyes and the mocking, hateful cry of “Tekeli-li!” ringing in his ears.

* * *

 

##  **Vancouver, Terra**

The small temple was not often host to such a sizable congregation - understandable, as the adherents of this particular branch of faith were straining the official Alliance policy about religious freedom and ethics. Still, none of the people present thought for a moment that what they did, what they believed in was in any way detrimental to the cause of Humanity. After all, every member present pledged life, soul, and sanity to ensure that their kind would not be swept aside by the uncaring, pitiless Universe - and that they would use any and all means necessary to achieve that noble goal. Sure, their contemporaries might label them as insane zealots, irresponsible revolutionaries or plain madmen, but the generations following them would realize the enormous sacrifice.

The members of the congregation would follow in the footsteps of their famous predecessors like Dr. Ambrose Dexter or General J. F. C. Fuller - never working for recognition, never craving fame, but always, always keeping the betterment of Mankind as their main goal. And unlike the mostly technocratic leadership of the current Alliance, they recognized that sometimes more esoteric methods and threats were also to be factored in. Sure, there were official steps in this direction as well, and that was good - the University of Kathmandu, and the N7∆ were both worthwhile and effective, but both of those were young and inexperienced.

Their own congregation was anything but - they have existed for over three centuries, and their sources of intelligence stretched back much, much farther than that paltry amount of years. For them, time or space was a rather small obstacle when attempting to gain information. Still, they were not perfect - while their sources always provided pertinent data, it was exceedingly hard to interpret, as mostly it was obfuscated behind a veil of allegories, symbols, and metaphors.

Even so, there were occasions when the congregation received unquestionable information - and in such cases, they gladly paid the price. What did a dozen lives matter, when the Fate of all Humanity hung in the balance? Any of them would volunteer to act as a sacrifice, and in fact, half of the barely-alive husks writhing on the cold floor were former members of the faith. The other six, well, there were always parts of humanity that did not deserve any further chance - and with the proper connections, it was not too difficult to get access to the penal facilities.

The chanting rose and fell, as the blood of the sacrifices slowly filled up the grooves of the ritual circle, and a faint, cold blue radiance shimmered into existence, etching lines of light into the blood-tainted darkness of the chamber. In the center of the arcane web of symbols, a many-faceted gemstone started to pulse with the heartbeat of a galaxy slowly awakening. Within the shadowy depths of the curiously alight facets, images swirled in a never-ending dance of space-time. The members of the circle closed and averted their gazes as they chanted, only the leader of the group, the designated successor of the old knowledge peered deep into the kaleidoscope of impressions, as was his right and sacred duty, handed down from his distant ancestor.

The images flickering in the now-shining cosmic gemstone flashed rapidly past the eyes of the watcher, yet he knew they would haunt him in the darkness of night and void alike. A lesser man’s sanity would crack from that thought alone, yet he persevered, bending his formidable will to the task of directing, influencing the dreamlike vistas. A vast, ebony metal hand stretched down from the sky, death and destruction raining from its fingertips; then the image zoomed out, and more of the selfsame hands could be seen, reaching down to immolate and consume all life in their unending hunger. A glorious vision of a laurel-wreathed Imperator, his eyes cold and merciless, an endless rain of blood cascading from his hands and heart. Impossible, huge shapes moving in the dark depths of an ocean, vengeance, malice and fear gripping their thought patterns. A dark, unreal city of angles and shadows, of patient malice, filled with inhuman creatures with dreams soaked in death and ruin. The starless night of the Outer Void, radiating endless, uncaring, selfish hunger, ever stirring closer to awakening. Again and again, the hands of metal returned, burning, killing, absorbing all in their path, turning verdant worlds into lifeless husks.

The chanting slowed, as the last gasp of the desperately struggling sacrificial member finally died away, the radiance slowly dimmed along with the light flickering within the facets of the ancient crystal. The leader tottered a few steps back, breathing hard, fighting against the nausea and terror creeping into his guts and soul. Sure, the visions were not always easy to interpret, but this time, he thought that the undertones of menace and warning were quite clear in their own right.

Turning towards the members of his congregation, General Ungern-Sternberg starts issuing commands. The horrors of malevolent dreams will not end Humanity - not in his life, not on his watch. Not if he has to sacrifice half of humanity to save the others. He and his people will protect Mankind - by any and all means necessary.

* * *

 

##  **?????, ?????**

The sun feels warm on his skin, the gentle lapping of the blue waves is soothing for his nerves - for the first few moments, he allows himself to luxuriate in the relaxing atmosphere; it has been so long since he could just lay back and enjoy something like this. Images, memories skitter in his mind, and his muscles and limbs burn with the exertion of rowing for hours under the selfsame Aegean sky. With a sigh, he opens his eyes, and turns towards his host, the other seemingly materializing from thin air.

A single look at the other’s face, and he’s tensing up in wariness and surprise - there is pain, sure, he expected that after all these years; but there is something more. Something deeper, darker. More clandestine.

With a deliberate effort, he calms himself. He knows the other would not be here unless there was a rather serious reason for it. Thus, he composes himself, and waits, only acknowledging his host with a deep, respectful nod.

“I am sorry, my friend.” He feels his jaw hanging open at the tone of the usually resonant, mellifluous baritone; the deep sadness, the hurt, the betrayal. “I am afraid I might have to break the promise I made so long ago on the shores of a certain island.”

He closes his eyes, exhales softly, then he nods.

“I suppose I am not surprised - I may have retired a while ago” the smile his host flashes at that is a wan, pale thing “but my clearances still work. I do have some ideas about how large the problem is, especially after Feros and Noveria.”

His host nods, eyes dark with terrible foresight.

“It is even worse than I originally thought - we don’t have centuries, we are lucky if we get years. I know you already did much, much more than could be asked of anyone, and I do remember I promised you as many normal lives as you care to live, my friend, but I am afraid this time, your direct involvement would be very helpful.”

He can’t help himself, and barks a short, surprised laugh.

“Me, help you? Old friend, you do remember that I am nothing special, right? Even that girl you found about two-three hundred years ago, what’s her name, Alivia - even she’s more powerful than me. What could I possibly do that you two can’t?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, my friend.” The tone is gently chiding. “You are vastly more skilled and experienced than you give yourself credit for.”

“Still, my question stands. How could I help, when you already have so much pull with the Alliance nowadays?” He notes how his host’s face contorts into a small grimace, and braces himself for the inevitable comeback.

“I need your help in locating someone - or perhaps I should say something that can give Humanity an advantage in surviving the coming storm.” His host looked down, before raising his head again, the golden eyes boring into his own gaze. “We both know that I could do it without your help in time, but that is the only commodity we do not have at this point.” A brief, dark chuckle. “I suppose that’s rather ironic, for people like us.”

He furrows his brow in thought for a few short seconds, considering. In the end, he nods - and realizes that there never was a chance of him doing anything else. Not this time. Not when his old friend needed help; not when humanity needed help.

With a sigh, he reached out, and shook Professor Munir Yildirim’s hand.

And then, Major Olof Pieterzoon awoke, his hand reaching out to find the ancient, intricate skull-shaped compass.


	15. Chapter 12

##  **Citadel, Council chambers**

Tali fidgeted as she watched the events over Virmire replay again, and she could not suppress her shivering - she still did not fully believe that so many of them managed to get away from that hellhole of a system, and that ebony monstrosity. She hated how her mind tallied and listed the lives lost when she saw a ship explode on-screen, or spiral into its death when grabbed by the gravity well of Virmire. Sure, the crazy turian admiral managed to get about half of her ships to safety, and the decision and cost obviously sat ill with her. Still, looking at the slim, bandaged turian, Tali could not help but feel sympathy and a rather larger amount of awe than she thought possible - and all without any pang of jealousy. Being an admiral’s daughter, she thought she understood quite well the price of command, and travelling with Shepard and Wrex had certainly been an eye-opening experience - yet only now, seeing the haunted eyes and proud but sad posture of Admiral Vipsania, did she fully realize what flag rank would actually mean in war.

On the screen, the apocalyptic destruction of Virmire plays out, and she unconsciously checked that Wrex and Garrus were still there, still close, still alive. Even across the screen, the effortless ease of Sovereign all but shrugging off those human-made abominations draws a hiss of anger and fear from several onlookers - and then it was her turn, as the recording she made with her omnitool played out on the huge display. Her eyes narrowed in thought as she caught a few people stiffen at the name and title Sovereign used; though all things considered, she perhaps should not have been surprised - after all, both Admiral Lidanya and Councilor Tevos have been around for centuries, and Jondum Bau was the lead Spectre. Still, it was interesting to note the well-masked fear in Tevos, the cold flash of fury on Lidanya, and the grim satisfaction of Bau. She tilted her head, then nodded to herself- obviously, it was some kind of shadowy power play involved with those three, and in the light of the recent past, she was disinclined to dig deeper.

The recording ended, and silence settled over the briefing room. The three councilors exchanged glances, and Sparatus spoke.

“This is exceedingly troublesome, Spectre Shepard. Normally I would love to chastise and decry the Alliance for such a treatment of a garden world, of all things - but in this case, I can’t really find any alternative.” Tali suppressed a snicker at Garrus’ flabbergasted expression, and the turian councilor went on. “It would have been nice to secure that Beacon as well,” Sparatus raised his hand to forestall the protest from forming “but again, under the circumstances, that would have been impossible.”

Councilor Valern made a throw-away gesture with a hand and spoke.

“Even if it was possible, it may have simply worsened the situation, if these theories about that indoctrination effect are even slightly correct. ” He cocked his head to the side, considered. “Perhaps that was how it began for Saren, a contact with this unregistered Beacon...”

“With all due respect, councilors, that is rather irrelevant now.” Udina’s voice carried an undercurrent of fear and irritation. “The question is now how we proceed.”

The three councilors again shared a glance, and Valern turned towards Admiral Vipsania.

“We did receive your preliminary estimate on Seventh Fleet’s combat readiness, but would you kindly summarize it for us now?”

The turian female suppressed a wince as she snapped to attention, and spoke.

“I have a dreadnought that is barely holding together. I have five cruisers and a dozen frigates that are only lightly damaged and ready for combat; the rest of my ships would require extensive repairs. In short, Seventh Fleet is currently barely enough for a police action against a minor Terminus warlord, and is wholly unsuited for combat operations on the scale required by the threat level Saren, Sovereign, and their geth present.”

Sparatus’ eyes flashed at the blunt summary, and Tali thought for a moment he’d refute Vipsania’s claims; then the turian closed his eyes, nodding slowly, defeatedly. Valern turned towards Admiral Lidanya.

“Admiral, what forces do we have immediately available?”

The uniformed asari fiddled with her omnitool, and the screen lit up, lists and images of ships scrolling rapidly.

“We have the turian Sixth Fleet, elements from the asari Second and Sixth Fleets including two dreadnoughts, and the Destiny Ascension. We also” she nodded towards Udina and Hackett “have the Alliance’s Fifth Fleet on standby, a relay jump away, and Commodore Anderson’s task force is docked at the Citadel. Based on the sensor data provided by Admiral Vipsania and Spectre Shepard, I believe we would have a better than even chance against Saren and his fleet, even considering Sovereign’s vast firepower.”

Tali could not stop a derisive snort from escaping, then she paled as the old asari’s eyes fixated on her, the blue gaze cold and merciless - but also not derisive, and her eyes widened as the other woman nodded slightly before Lidanya continued.

“Yes, I am aware how boastful that sounds.” Tevos barely managed to suppress an indignant sputtering; all that naval power, and only  _ better than even chance _ , and the older asari thought it  _ boastful _ ? The asari admiral went on in a flat, measured tone. “We would certainly pay a heavy price, especially if we did not manage to eliminate the geth escort vessels quickly, or if Admiral Hackett’s experts are not able to improve on the spaceside efficiency of their C-type shells.”

Admiral Hackett took over at the glance of the asari, the grim lines of his face seemingly a daemonic mask of a predator.

“We are updating the guidance software as well as recalibrating our launchers; and my people are running simulations if we can channel the force contained within in a more effective way.” He flashed a small, grim smile at Lidanya. “I am told our chances are better than even.”

Tali noted curiously how, apart from Shepard and Wrex, the only persons not showing discomfort at the mention of improving those monstrosities were Lidanya herself and Bau - then again, as the lead Spectre, she supposed he saw worse; though that consideration made her shiver. Those C-types were horrible enough, she did not need to dwell on things that were even more nightmare-inducing - and as usual, her mind could be trusted to supply the image of the malevolent stare of the Normandy’s Tartarus core. She fought for calmness, focusing on the two solid figures next to her, and slowly got her breathing under control, and with that, she could once again pay attention to Lidanya’s voice.

“The main issue is that while we do have enough firepower in place for finishing Saren should he attack us here; we have precious little naval capacity to actually go after him.” At Shepard’s stare, she chuckled, the sound bitter and hard, before she continued. “Yes, Spectre - we managed to find out where he’s headed. We have the coordinates for Ilos. And we don’t have the means to send a fleet after him there, not in time to stop him.”

Tali braced her shoulders, took a deep breath. This was her chance, the Migrant Fleet’s chance - and she did not dare waste it, despite the potential cost.

“The Migrant Fleet could provide assistance - we quarians have quite a lot of experience in fighting geth, after all.” She swallowed as the gazes of all present focused on her. “My people would only need a safe place for the Civilian Fleet; that way, our warships, or at least a number of our warships could be detached to lend a hand either here or at Ilos.”

“Can you actually convince your Admiralty Board about that, Miss Zorah?” Udina’s voice carried an undertone of respect, warning - and beneath all, a faint tremor of hope.

Tali tilted her head to the side, considered for a second, before she nodded decisively.

“Yes, I can convince them. The geth are our responsibility, all things considered. And it’s not like Saren and Sovereign would give us any chance after the Council, now would they? And besides, this way my people could show that they are different and ….” she snapped her mouth shut before she could finish the sentence. Lidanya flashed a faint, bitter smile at her, and Wrex’ deep, savagely amused chuckle strangely warmed her, and even Liara’s respectful nod felt good. 

“Well then, Miss Zorah, when you contact the Migrant Fleet, let them know that the Alliance is willing to lend assistance with the quarian civilian population.” And Tali could not stop her jaw from dropping open at Udina’s declaration.

* * *

##  **Citadel, Spectre offices**

“Shepard, good you could join. Sit.” Jondum Bau’s voice was flat, emotionless, his gestures and movement measured, calm - and the human’s instincts started with the internal alarms. Salarians, even salarian Spectres, did not behave that way. Something or someone must have pissed the semi-official leader of the Spectre corps to a rather alarming extent.

“You ambassador’s offer to the quarians - is it genuine? Does he have enough backing to pull it off?”

Shepard deliberated for a moment, before nodding.

“Udina’s too much of a politician to openly promise something of this magnitude without being able to pull it off. He could not afford the loss of prestige; or at least his self-esteem couldn’t.” The human grinned. “Besides, I can partially see his reasoning now that I had some time to digest it - taking the moral high ground when compared to the Council, and getting into the good graces of the quarian engineers? You can rarely hope for something that lucrative, Bau, and he’d be an idiot for not putting his full weight behind that idea.”

The salarian nodded sharply, and flashed an appreciative smirk at Shepard.

“Good, you are able to consider political implications as well as military ones. I see why Nihlus likes you.” The ranking Spectre’s shoulders sagged as he went on. “That makes the following bit rather more difficult and unpleasant.”

With a gesture of his omnitool, the wall display came alive, and Shepard winced at the sight. Bau’s voice was cold, hard.

“This was taken by Spectres Kryik and Vasir on Binthu. We are still investigating the exact circumstances and background, but the preliminary findings and the data unearthed by them are rather damning on the Alliance.” The salarian held up a hand to stop Shepard’s refusal, and continued. “Spare me the denials,  _ Commander _ . All our races have their unsavory, dark secrets, and it’s not the rather crude butchery that was conducted on Council races that makes  _ me _ wary. Sure, it would reflect rather bad on the Alliance should it come out, but it’s nothing more or less than we ourselves have been doing,  _ Spectre _ . And at any rate, officially it would be surely denied, or cathegorized as a black project going lightyears past its mandate thanks to some insane or power-hungry zealots with way more fanatic patriotism than sanity.”

The salarian’s gaze bored deep into Shepard’s eyes as he continued, his tone level, comparatively slow and measured, the full weight of his title behind every word.

“What I am worried about are the more esoteric implications - especially in light of what Spectres Kryik and Vasir uncovered on Thessia.” He laughed at Shepard’s surprised face, the sound bitter, grim. “did you for a moment think that I would not send my men to the asari, just because they have a representative on the Council?” Bau’s eyes shone with a dangerous light. “We have vast privileges and rights, Spectre - but our responsibility is more than equal to that. And we are not beholden to any individual race, but the people represented by the Council. Recall your oath - we are the first and last line of defense, for the whole galaxy.”

Shepard nodded, conceding the salarian’s point.

“That is well and good, sir, but then what do you want from me now?” 

“I want you to start digging.” Bau once again faces the screen, the images scrolling once again, heavily featuring the strange double hexagon. “I want to know if this is just a classified black project gone beyond its mandate, or something more serious. Understand me,  _ Commander _ : if it’s nothing more, then I do not really care about it. Us Council races did this much and more, and we all have our dark secrets even now - and as salarian, I can certainly understand the need for scientific research in such directions.”

The salarian exhaled, and he suddenly looked much older - yet magnitudes deadlier and more worrying than anything Shepard previously faced, except maybe an enraged Liara or a berserk Wrex. 

“But if it is more than that,  _ Spectre _ , I want it broken down, and I want those responsible nailed to a cross. I will not have an allied power falling to internal strife because of a fringe group capable of something like this - not when there is a crisis this serious looming over all of us. Am I clear?”

Shepard saluted with a small grin.

“Crystal, sir.”

“Good. I already have a couple of independent contractors looking into the issue, and once Nihlus and Tela get back, they will follow up their leads from Thessia and Binthu with the Shadow Broker, but I would like to have another, semi-official peek into the things on the Alliance’s side; after all, your kind seems to have the most practical experience when dealing with esoteric and archeotech threats.” Bau flashed a rueful, sad smile. “Well, likely some asari and krogan know more, but getting them to talk takes time. And that’s something we do not have.”

Shepard nodded, and stood up, ready to leave, before he tilted his head to the side, as something nagging in his brain snapped into focus.

“Sir, a question: how did Sovereign manage to get through the mass relay and into the Hoc system at all? Did someone hack into the relay controls here?”

Bau’s gaze went cold and distant.

“No, Shepard. The signal for the relay to allow traveling seems to have come from Sovereign itself, and it overrode the control settings we sent from here.”

“Sir, but if it can do that, what is preventing it to jump through the Widow relay, and close it off, leaving Hackett’s fleet on the other side? And even if there are safeguards in place against that likely override, what if Saren manages to infiltrate the Citadel Control?”

The salarian grimaces, nods.

“Those are points Admirals Lidanya, Vipsania, and Hackett discussed, and they came to a conclusion that the risk of being cut off is worth the possibility of catching the geth between the Citadel defenses and Hackett’s ships. We do have a control signal in place, and the proximity of the Citadel itself would require Sovereign to devote a significant amount of energy into punching through the command signal.” A swift breath, and Bau continued. “As for dealing with possible infiltrators, I detailed three Spectres to the control room, along with teams of Blackwatch, Serrice Guard, and N7s.” 

The salarian’s lips peel back in a vicious smile, showing far too many, far too pointed teeth - and Shepard returns it in kind.

“If Saren comes to the Citadel to play, we are definitely going to give him a rather warmer welcome than he would like. If there’s nothing else, Shepard, I suggest you prepare for your task - Ilos will not wait much longer, and you still need to rendezvous with the quarians.”

The human nodded, and saluted, before turning to leave.

* * *

 

##  **SSV Normandy, en route to the Mu Relay**

As the Normandy left the Citadel again after little more than two frantic days of resupply, planning, and repairs, with barely a half-day of shore leave for the personnel, Liara felt more tired since the fateful day when Shepard’s team freed her from the Prothean trap on Therum. She knew that they had a few days until they reached the Mu Relay and joined with the incoming quarian fleet, but she felt somewhat at a loss at what to do with her available time. She was not, officially, a member of the crew, she did not have to stand watch or get involved in the day-to-day workings of the ship like Tali did. Earlier, she busied herself with running theoreticals on Saren and Benezia’s goals, meditating, occasionally talking with Wrex and Tali - but now, she felt at a total loss what to do. 

She tried talking with Wrex again, and that snowballed into a rather involved discussion with him and Garrus arguing about the best weapon loadout she should take when landing on Ilos. After about half an hour, she decided to leave them to their bickering, as their suggestions at times bordered on the extremely impractical. Really, who in their right mind would take a portable nuclear launcher to an enclosed battlefield? She was no commando, and the rollercoaster events since Therum had forced her to adapt to rather more quickly than she thought, but still, that did not sound sane enough. Wrex’ suggestions about close combat were also less than helpful - she was not a krogan, she did not go around headbutting or eating people! 

Still, at least the old krogan dropped a few interesting hints, which she could not help but ponder, especially when she draw the connections to their experiences on Feros and Noveria. To think that the old warlord faced things that enabled him to look at those abominations of the Thorian without flinching, to look at the death of a world with cold indifference - no, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to delve into the events Wrex alluded to. Yet, wouldn’t that be kind of her responsibility? Her task, as the ship’s resident xenoarcheologist - even if that post was never formalized? At least the crew accepted her as just that, and did not mutter behind her back about her mother’s legacy; something she was sure the asari on Thessia would definitely not omit. With a shiver, Liara realized that she very well may have to face either a silent exile from her kind, seek asylum in the Alliance - or face the Justicar Order, supported by the Matriarchy and the Temple of Athame. No, she was not sure which prospect was more frightening to her.

She was still mulling over her bleak-seeming future (and tried to shut out the voice screaming about said future being measured in days, and about Saren and Benezia) when she almost collided with Doctor Chakwas in the medbay’s door. Liara muttered an embarrassed apology, and stepped aside to allow the other woman pass. Chakwas tilted her head to the side, studying her face carefully for a few moments, before she spoke.

“If something is troubling you, Doctor, you know that you can always discuss it with me.” The asari smiled at the human and nodded, fidgeting a bit. Chakwas’ lips curled slightly. “Perhaps we should take this to the medbay, darling?”

She stepped back inside, Liara followed, and the door hissed close behind them. Chakwas dropped down onto her usual chair, leaned back as she focused on the asari.

“So, what is on your mind, Liara?”

“Just … restless, I suppose, I can’t seem to find anything to occupy my mind, to help and assist, and with the upcoming fight and the meeting with the quarians I can’t focus well enough, and then there’s Ilos, you do realize I’ve been wanting to find that world for decades, just like all xenoarcheologists focusing on Prothean, and now I can...”

Chakwas chuckled, and the warm mirth snapped Liara out of her increasingly swift-paced tirade, and the young asari smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, Doctor Chakwas. I got a bit carried away, I suppose.”

The older woman nodded sagely, with a small smile on her lips.

“I suggest you speak with the Commander, then - perhaps he can give you a suitable task that will take your mind off all that you described.” Liara blushed, opened her mouth to deny, to say anything, but was cut off by Chakwas’ raised hand. “A talk would be good for both of you. In case you haven’t noticed, Shepard barely comes out from his cabin to eat or do a daily check on the ship. So you might as well see what keeps him so busy, Doctor - perhaps that would sufficiently distract both of you.”

Liara tilted her head to the side, considering, before she nodded with a faint blush.

“Thank you, Doctor Chakwas, I believe I shall follow your advice.”

The young asari did not hear the low muttering about ‘winning the pool’ or ‘obtuse kids’ as she marched across the mess deck, and stood in front of Shepard’s cabin, placing her hand on the entry panel, then the door chimed, the lock flashed from red to green, and the door slid open. Swallowing nervously, ignoring the strange feeling deep within, Liara stepped inside the Spectre’s cabin for the first time. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment, T’soni.” Shepard’s voice sounded from the separated bedroom/refresher part of the small cabin, leaving Liara standing in his, for lack of a better word, stateroom. She panned her gaze over the pile of datapads on his desk, the short shelf full of actual, honest-to-Athame paper books (and no, she did not step closer so she could touch each book, she was more disciplined than that), and to the side, half-hidden by the desk, a glowing stasis field shielding a handful of peculiar tomes - that immediately twigged on the xenoarcheologist’s instincts in her. Turning away from the shelf, and stepping back, she tilted her head to get a better view, eyes narrowed in concentration as she studied the old artifacts.

“You know, I can’t decide if you are planning on reading or ravishing them.”

Liara almost felt her neck snap as she spun around to face the Spectre, a blushing denial and admonishment dying on her lips as she saw him - and her eyes went wide at the sight of the strange pattern of recent scars adorning Shepard’s arms, her hand automatically going to her omnitool to summon Chakwas, or administer medigel … before the human’s surprisingly gentle touch stopped her.

“Don’t worry, T’soni - this job comes with a number of unfortunate side effects, and at times operatives like me want to ensure that we can do the task at hand.” Liara almost reeled at the dark but genuine humor in the Spectre’s voice. “And anyway, you should not worry about it, they’ll fade soon enough, I just needed a bit more energy than I thought.”

At her inquisitive glance, he shook his head ruefully, before flashing a smile at her.

“What brings you here, Liara? Are you planning to use me for my books and the few meager artifacts I have?”

She stiffened and blushed at his words, torn between wanting to sink in embarrassment and hitting him with the strongest biotic field she could muster; in the end, she opted for glaring at him, though the effect was lessened by her still-noticeable blush and that infuriating smirk he wore. For a second, she tensed and hoped, sure against all sane expectations that Wrex would drop once again something comment about krogan courtship, just to see Shepard lose that smirk. She glared at the man when the old krogan failed to materialize. The Spectre raised a hand in an apologetic gesture.

“Sorry. I’m told my humor can be off at times.” 

“Yes it is, Commander. Just be glad that we asari have decades or even centuries to cultivate enough patience to deal with such attempted levity.” She held herself in the imperious pose fitting for a Matriarch just a second longer, then she chuckled. “Not that I could claim to have too much experience on that front, honestly.”

“I’d say you are doing fine, Liara. And seriously, what brings you here?” At her hesitant expression, Shepard stepped closer, voice lowered. “Nervous about what happens when we get to Ilos?”

A nod was all Liara could manage, not trusting her willpower with more. Shepard frowned in thought, then sighed, stepped back to his desk, and deactivated the stasis field - and Liara’s eyes widened as she could actually fully appreciate the tomes practically screaming ‘ancient, priceless relics’ to her. Then her yes narrowed, as she took in the curious binding materials, and her stomach roiled as she realized  exactly what type of skin was used. A quick look at Shepard, and his answering nod confirmed her suspicion.

“Why keep something this … barbaric around, Shepard? Even if you were the mindless Butcher others harp on about, you would not do that.” She tilted her head, thought for a few seconds. “Unless, you actually earned that name by doing something that has to do with this...” Her eyes tracked the covering, her voice stumbling over the unfamiliar name. “... this Liber Ivonis? Or something similar, I think. Care to enlighten me?”

Liara again stopped speaking, considered.

“Well, that is, if you are allowed to. If you actually can? I am not sure, you understand, but after Feros and Noveria, after what I’ve seen from you and what Wrex hinted at, I have a … theory about why humans always seem so interested in xenoarcheology. And why the Alliance has such an … overwhelming approach to related dangers.”

“Well, I can explain some, Doctor - but trust me, it is not a nice story. And quite a lot of our best and brightest have suffered dire consequences from studying artifacts such as this.” The old tome creaked in his hand. “Are you sure you want to risk that, T’soni?” There was something in his eyes she could not decipher. 

“I have a suspicion that not knowing may be riskier in the long run.” For a moment, she could not understand why he was grinning; then it dawned on her what she said exactly, and she could not help laughing as well. “So Commander, enlighten me, before we go on to ensure that there is, indeed, a long run.”

As Shepard started explaining, Liara got comfortable on the small sofa, listening intently to the operative - the xenoarcheologist, the scientist in her drank in the words, mind dizzy with implications, theories, arguments to counter the insane web he spun to her. The young asari maiden, however, paid attention to rather different aspects of the Spectre.

* * *

 

##  **SSV Normandy, Pangaea Expanse, Refuge system**

Tali was worried again. Sure, the meeting with Han’Gerrel and Daro’Xen went well enough, but mainly because she, Liara and Garrus managed to convince the two admirals to see reason … and perhaps more importantly, discouraged Wrex and Shepard to throw the two quarian leaders out an airlock. Sure, Han’Gerrel was a rather abrasive man, and Daro’Xen would easily qualify as the quintessential mad scientist, but still, they were leaders of her race, and friends, partners of her father. And if she wanted to be honest with herself, despite all that she has seen since Wrex took her under his wings, she could still feel the disdain most of the Council showed her kind - and the calculating pragmatism of the likes of Udina was not really much better, in her opinion. Of course, she also fumed when her own Admirals discarded her ideas just because she was a young girl still on her Pilgrimage. 

She bit off a vindictive, sharp laughter when she recalled the reactions from Wrex and Shepard to that little remark of Daro’Xen; even if those smiles would haunt her nightmares for awhile, it was worth it. The Admiralty Board should be proud or at least satisfied with her - after all, she did manage to wring concessions out from the Citadel Council (not that it was hard when the representative was her own Captain), and gotten the Migrant Fleet a safe harbor within Alliance space as well as a possible membership in the Citadel Council. Even her father sent a rather heartfelt congratulations when Han’Gerrel and Daro’Xen notified him and the rest of the Board. 

Her fingers danced over the controls of the core diagnostics panel, as the Normandy raced towards the Mu Relay, the quarian task force following close behind - and hopefully, they would manage to finish the hunt for Saren and his geth, showing those bigoted fossils on the Council what a mistake they made when their predecessors left the quarians to fend for themselves during the exodus from Rannoch. Finally, her people would earn back their place in the galactic community, and erase the largest mistake of their past - and if she was lucky, it would be done before she gave herself more nightmares from the mere vicinity of the Tantalus core. Her fingers absently playing with the small trinket Shepard gave her (and the rest of the Council observers), she narrowed her eyes at the drive core, the rhythmic pulse of the core somehow taunting, mocking her. 

She almost jumped out of her suit when the comm crackled to life, and Shepard’s voice sounded.

“Tali, Liara, Wrex, come up to the cockpit.”

With a last glare at the core and a nod towards Adams, she left Engineering.

The cockpit felt rather crowded when she arrived - of course, any enclosed space with Wrex inside tended to have that effect. Garrus was sitting in the seat next to Joker, targeting data and weapon readiness readouts scrolling on his screens, and she had to suppress a snicker at his sincere but constant efforts to calibrate the armament to an ever-finer quality. Shepard was standing directly behind them, looking at the telemetry data from a recon drone, and Liara was hanging back, busy at a console. Wrex simply leaned back, grinning toothily at everyone.

Reflexively, Tali glanced at the screen the Spectre and Joker were studying, and she felt her jaw drop.

“That’s all of them? Where are the other ships? Where is the geth fleet gone? Are we running into a trap” She almost did not recognize her own voice due to the shrill note of disbelief.

“Relax, kid. It seems your people will miss the show spaceside.” Wrex bared his teeth in a savage smile. “On the other hand, if your Marines are willing to come dirtside...”

“Later, Wrex.” Shepard’s voice was calm, yet she could hear the underlying urgency. “Tali, I want you and Liara to try and come up with a good scanning program that might help us narrow down where Saren’s forces are.” He raised a hand to stop her before she could open her mouth. “I know they are likely already left, but we are somewhat lacking in options. If they are still on-planet, I want to find them and stop them as quickly as possible. If they are gone, I want to know that fast, so we can turn around and race back to the Citadel.”

Tali thought for a  moment, then nodded, her omnitool lighting up as she stepped to Liara’s side, the asari moving a bit to the side so she too could access the scanner. 

Two hours later, the Normandy settled on a high orbit around Ilos, the quarian fleet following suit. Tali was rather content that the engagement went well for them - the overwhelming firepower of the Heavy Fleet detachment blew the geth squadron aside, and only took minor hits in return. She only remembered patches from that, focused as she was on the frantic coding effort on perhaps the most slapdash piece of software ever put together by a quarian engineer. Admittedly, it was nice that Liara let her take the lead, and was content with not getting in her way and providing only relevant assistance when they put together the search parameters for typical Prothean structures and energy signatures. She even offered to officially publish the program, with Tali as the chief architect - provided she polished it up a bit for commercial use.

Tali could dimly hear Shepard arguing with Han’Gerrel about something to do with the Marines, but honestly, her focus was on the scanner display, just like Liara’s. Pride at her craft warred with worry in her, as more and more of Ilos’ surface was proven devoid of any trace of geth. For an insane minute, she even hoped that they had gotten here before Saren, and that almost made her panic as she thought of her people having to face Sovereign - but then the scanner pinged at the same time Joker cursed. A very distinct energy signature started on the surface, in the middle of what was likely a Prothean city. Wrex barked a short, angry curse, while Garrus muttered something about spirits, and Liara closed her eyes, seemingly in prayer.

“And now we know why Benezia called it a Conduit.” Shepard’s voice was cold.

Tali nodded, mutely watching as the impossible signature of a mass relay spinning up for transport was clearly shown on the Normandy’s scanner.

* * *

 

##  **Ilos, Prothean ruins**

Garrus never thought he’d agree with anything Saren said about humanity. Now, strapped into a Mako, about to be dropped from the Normandy’s docking bay while the frigate was currently screaming down into the atmosphere of Ilos in an almost-vertical dive, he had to admit that the renegade Spectre was right, and humans were insane monkeys who should never have moved from beyond their dinky solar system. The fact that he had to endure the dark, eager chuckling of Wrex did not help his mood, and not even being pressed close to Tali was enough to take his mind off the likely event of Joker crashing the ship into the surface. No pilot was good enough for that, and even if he was, the drive core could not handle the sudden shift, or the fuselage would be torn apart by the stress. And what was more galling to him, he could not really see a saner alternative than what Shepard proposed. They were likely already late enough as it was, and their backup contingent of quarian marines was only now launching from the orbiting ships.

He heard Joker mutter something about wind and soaring into the open comm channel, but it was mostly lost under Pressly’s warning and the roar of power from the direction of the drive core. The Normandy’s hull shrieked under the stress of the sudden shift, the inertial compensators howling along with the warning klaxons as the ship stood still for a second, the lamp lowered, and Shepard gunned the Mako’s engine. The APC echoed from the triumphant laughter of Wrex, which luckily drowned out the screams of Tali and Liara as they hurtled out into the atmosphere of Ilos, experiencing a moment of free fall before the jump jets ignited and they landed on the surface with a resounding, almost neck-snapping crash as the Normandy raced back towards orbit, weaving around geth rockets and bolts of green lightning.

Even before the wheels have stopped, Garrus was moving. His sniper rifle unfolded, and the opening riffs of his people’s anthem thundered into his ears. With a savage smile, he switched to explosive rounds, and with a light touch of the trigger his first hit turned tore off the chest and head of a geth Juggernaut coming to greet them. With a flick of his omnitool, he deployed a dampening field centered on the geth Prime closest to them while he dove into cover behind a ruined statue of some tentacle-eyed alien. The Mako’s cannon roared and another Prime was turned into spare parts before the APC started to move, Shepard jumping out from the vehicle followed by Wrex. 

The trio on foot raced towards the immense gate slowly closing before them, seeking to bar their way deeper into the Prothean pyramid. His visor’s sensors told him the same as his instincts, and Garrus clicked his comm open.

“We won’t make it, not like this!”

Both Shepard and Wrex nodded at that, and he felt the temperature drop as hoarfrost crept along the ruins spiralling out from the Spectre while the krogan warlord’s biotic corona started to shine stronger and stronger. The turian nodded, they could make it inside, and hopefully hold the gate open while their team got inside - and then the five of them would be able to survive until the quarian marines arrived. His musing was cut short as he noticed a slender blue figure behind the gate and then a blue flare of  discontinuity wrenched him from the timeline.

The stasis field did not hold for long - but it was enough for the gate to close, leaving them outside with a host of geth led by three Primes. He threw himself into cover behind a statue, green lightning burning a furrow into the ground behind him. His answering shot was stopped by an orange-colored beehive barrier, that nevertheless broke with a sound like shattering glass. A swipe of his omnitool sent an overload charge into the Prime, hoping to slow it down for the two seconds his rifle needed to finish venting heat. He cursed as the statue began to melt from the barrage of the other geth units - then the now-familiar boom of displaced air sounded, followed by the sounds of metal being torn and the roar of an oversized krogan shotgun as Wrex tore into the geth.

A quick look around, and Garrus cursed. Both Wrex and Shepard were in the middle of the geth horde, heading towards a Prime each - but compared to earlier fights, these ones were giving ground, falling back, seeking to corral the two with those damned barriers and smaller geth units. So far, both of his comrades managed to avoid the worst of the geth fire, but even they could hold out only for so long. The Mako was a burning, half-melted wreck, and for a moment he was worried before he spotted the blue dome of a biotic barrier - Liara was still standing, her face a focused mask as her biotics flared and weathered the geth barrage. Tali was crouched down, frantically typing on her omnitool, before a gesture sent two Destroyers lurching then the hacked geth opened fire on the other mechs. His mandibles parted with a savage grin, and Garrus sighted into the scope of his rifle, pulled the trigger, and turned a Prime’s head into a rapidly-expanding cloud of synthetic parts.

The grin was wiped off from his face when the awaited few seconds of confusion failed to manifest - sure, his visor and sensors later corroborated his instincts that the expected latency in geth reactions did happen, but it barely lasted a fraction of a second, too fast to take advantage of. Still, at least the pressure on Tali and Liara eased a bit, and for a quarian engineer like her, it was enough to go on the offensive, hacking geth after geth. With the pressure on her barrier lessening, Liara diverted part of her focus and energy, and singularity after singularity bloomed into existence, tearing mechs from cover, sending them spinning in the air - though most of them continued to fire with rather impressive accuracy even so, their elevated position made them rather easy targets for Garrus.

An eternity of ten minutes later, their team converged on the gate to see if they could open it by the time the quarians landed their marines. As Tali and Liara were busy scanning, trying to find a working access panel or control, Garrus stepped to the quietly conversing Shepard and Wrex.

“So, why did you not order a full-scale orbital bombardment as soon as we spotted that relay signal? Sure, Liara would have pouted over the loss of archeological artifacts, but it would have been much quicker than slogging it with these upgraded geth.”

Wrex barked a short, vicious laugh as he shook his head.

“Think, C-Sec. Even if the Butcher had flattened the whole pyramid, even if the explosion of the relay would have taken out a large chunk of the city, would it have guaranteed that Saren and Benezia are both dead? Could you take that chance?”

“Wrex is right, Garrus. Maybe if Sovereign had been in-system, I’d have done that, but with that thing gone, I am not willing to risk the quickest way of following Saren.”

The detective considered for a few moments, before he nodded with a rueful shake of his head.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point. I just hate this whole ruined ancient city; not really fun to fight in. And let’s not even talk about the insane stunt you and Joker pulled in getting us here.”

The human and the krogan flashed identical, half-crazy smiles, and Garrus shivered, before his eyes narrowed with malicious glee.

“Careful you two, Liara will get jealous.”

The old warlord simply laughed, while Shepard sent a worried glance towards the asari before glaring at the detective.

“Ladies, any chance we can get through this?”

Liara answered, not turning, her omnitool still scanning.

“Not quickly, and not without seriously tiring ourselves. If Wrex, Shepard and I were to mesh our biotic fields, we might be able to warp through the gate, but that would leave us seriously depleted when facing Saren and … Benezia on the other side.” She paused her scanning, turned towards Shepard with a raised eyebrow. “Unless there is some interesting trick up your sleeve, Commander?”

The Spectre shook his head, grimacing. 

“Not really. Partly because it could leave me at a disadvantage for later, partly because it would take hours, and partly because it might get easily out of hand. Maybe if it was not a tomb world I’d risk it, but not here and not now.”

Garrus gestured towards Wrex, and the two went back to the destroyed Mako to see what they can salvage while they waited for the Migrant Fleet Marines to arrive with breaching charges - and then they descended into the depth of the Prothean pyramid.

++++++

Liara should have been ecstatically happy. Here she was on fabled Ilos, walking amidst the remains of the single largest Prothean city anyone ever found - and she had to spend most of her focus on fighting the geth. And of course not thinking about how to face her mother in the immediate future. Looking at her companions, she worried, especially after the casual display of biotic power Benezia arranged for them at the gates of the complex. How could they, she stand up to that? How could she defend her friends (and maybe possible, hopeful bondmate?) from being overwhelmed by the wrath of a Matriarch?

No, she had to set those thoughts aside. As their group marched deeper into the complex, she found it practically impossible to hold back her inner xenoarcheologist as they walked past the darkened, unpowered stasis chambers containing sadly-deceased Protheans lining the high, dimly lit walls. She frowned at that, considering. There was still power here, as evidenced by the scattered remains of destroyed geth and automated defences they encountered along their way - and also, she could not believe that the builders did not include much, much more additional power sources than even a stasis chamber of this size would require, seeing as they had a working mass relay in place.

More ominously, from what she could tell of her scan results, the vast majority of the stasis pods were shut down only recently - as in not much earlier than their own jump through the Mu Relay. She shuddered at some of the implications to this little tidbit of data, suddenly feeling the whole complex even more ominous than it already was. Not that she was the only one who felt like that - judging by their stances and alertness, most of the quarians accompanying them were very much on edge. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Wrex and Shepard looked rather unfazed, as did the quarian captain, Kal’Reegar. 

Liara could not say how long have they walked the meandering corridors, always descending towards the energy signature of the still-working mass relay. Her eyes and omnitool scanned the walls, the stasis capsules, the glyphs and markings; all that with perhaps more intensity than Tali and her engineer companions did the downed geth constructs. Liara could not entirely follow the rapidfire tech-babble about the way the mechs were modified, especially with regards to their cognitive processing abilities, but from what she did understand, these geth were somehow upgraded with foreign code, making them less susceptible to the loss of Primes and similar nodes of network foci.

She did not know who triggered the trap (if it was that), but the barrier curtains igniting behind and in front surprised the whole group. She forced herself to swallow, to bring her pulse under control - after Therum, she well knew how much punishment such devices could weather. Before they could begin blasting their way out, a small, narrow passageway slid open, the door previously completely indistinguishable from the walls, and the scanners still could only detect the passage as solid rock. She only realized that she started moving towards the passage when Shepard’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Where are you going, T’Soni?”

She blinked before smiling slightly.

“It would be rude to disregard such a charming invitation, don’t you think, Commander?”

Wrex chuckled, and stepped forward, preceding the asari and the human into the narrow tunnel. The walkway ended in a small, circular platform overlooking a vault of stasis pods and data stacks, and despite the circumstances, Liara could not suppress her excitement at the sight - and she did not notice the amused grins shared by Wrex and Shepard behind her back. Her eyes went even wider when the air above the console lit up and a brown, indistinct, flickering mess of a hologram formed, then spoke. She could only partially understand what it said, her shallow knowledge melds with Shepard not nearly enough to gain a similar proficiency in Prothean language as he had. Still, she knew enough to understand the gist of what they were talking about, and her admiration for the long-gone species rose several notches. The last act of the scientists on Ilos was just the kind she and her colleagues would have expected from an enlightened race like the Protheans - and she silently swore that she would do everything in her power to ensure that they did not die in vain.

She started when Shepard cut off the conversation with Vigil after the VI confirmed that Saren and a significant amount of his army already transitioned to the Citadel via the Conduit relay - and that Vigil had a way of navigating ships in the atmosphere to latch onto the relay. For a moment, Liara could not believe that Shepard would leave off questioning the artifact when it was so obvious that they could learn much, much more from it; but then she remembered her mother, and the goals of Saren and Sovereign, and remained silent.

“Tali, I’d like you to stay here with a squad of marines as protection. I’ll send Vigil a translation program so you two can interact, and I want you to both coordinate any relay jumps after we clear out the remnants of Saren’s forces, and do some data recovery from Vigil’s databanks.” The Spectre sent a grin towards Liara, the asari returned it with a mock-glare and a small smile. “A certain doctor would never forgive me if we did not try and get as much data from here as possible. Still, focus on tech and history, particularly if Vigil has anything about the Reapers in its databanks.”

“Will do, Shepard.” Tali’s omnitool was already lighting up, her fingers blurring over the keys as she started typing.

“Captain Reegar, if you could detail a squad to remain here, we should leave.” The tall quarian nodded, motioned for one of his sergeants, and a dozen quarians moved to stand guard over Tali while she worked. Shepard turned to Tali once more. “If there’s trouble, just remember what I told you about that little trinket. And in case we don’t meet, it has been an honor, Tali’Zorah vas Neema.”

Before Tali could reply, the Spectre marched off, Liara and Garrus nodding goodbye to the quarian before following the commander. Wrex only lingered for a few more moments, his rumbling voice whispered something to Tali, and Liara could not suppress a chuckle as the krogan’s laughter was counterpointed by the indignant, mortified shriek of a teenage quarian girl.

The group quickened their progress jogging past the increasingly common geth wrecks and ruined defensive emplacements, the hum of the working mass relay becoming more and more distinct. They emerged from the tunnel into an immense vault dominated and lit by the slowly spinning mass relay in the middle of it. Liara could not really estimate the size of the vast cavern, she was too overwhelmed by the proof of the Prothean’s knowledge and might - and then her eyes narrowed as she noticed the blue faces amidst the grey geth shapes. There was a distinct pattern below the mass relay, some arrangement she could not discern at a short glance, but she could see pairs of asari and those bulking cloned krogan from Virmire standing in a twisted embrace … and as her armor’s sensors magnified the view, she fought the urge to retch as she beheld the melded, monstrous  _ things _ that were ringing the foundation of the Conduit.

She only half-heard the discussion between Wrex, Garrus, and Captain Reegar, her gaze flitting across the future battlefield in search of Benezia. After seeing what her mother allowed to (or perhaps ordered to) happen to her sworn acolytes and trusting followers, she wanted to dispose of the thing that wore her mother’s face, tainting all that the Matriarch achieved over a thousand years. Liara swore she would die before she allowed that to happen. She caught the end of the quick planning session between the soldiers, and moved to Shepard’s side, nodding resolutely at his questioning glance as they started towards the relay.

The quarians got into position first, their snipers and rockets striking into the geth lines awaiting transport, the suddenness and vicious precision of the attack blowing away Armatures and Primes alike, throwing even the upgraded geth into a short confusion. Garrus circled to the side, his sniper rifle booming, and the blue light of a biotic barrier shimmered into existence around Benezia as it stopped the disruptor round. The Matriarch’s gaze snapped towards him, and the turian barely managed to dodge a biotic field that sheared off half the console he used for cover. With a contemptuous ease, Benezia gestured, and the immobile mech Garrus dived behind was lifted in the air, forcing the detective to move on. Still, it was a testament to his skill that he managed to snap off another shot, hitting the Matriarch again - and more importantly, distracting her for the few crucial seconds they needed.

With roaring laughter and the boom of displaced air, Wrex charged, the explosion of him hitting the target throwing the few nearby geth clear, and Liara winced, unwilling to imagine the result of the old krogan slamming into her mother. Her eyes widened as she saw Benezia standing tall, a hand outstretched towards the warlord, in the classical throwing mnemonic gesture of asari biotics. That hand, outlined in blue-white energy, gestured again, and Wrex didn’t manage to fully dodge the half-melted Prime she threw at him, the glancing hit throwing the krogan to the side, as Benezia drew forth a slim, shimmering blade - or did it extend from the grey-black, form-fitting armor she wore? Liara was not sure, but it did not matter anyway as she focused and pulled Wrex away before her mother could kill him. Then Shepard arrived, omniblade flashing for the Matriarch’s neck.

That eerie blade stopped the slash with almost casual ease, the Spectre’s pistol was wrenched aside by a biotic field, a cold, disdainful sneer on the asari’s lips, before she reeled back as the human headbutted her. The reeling figure was thrown further back when Wrex and Garrus seemingly fired in the same instant, their shots collapsing her barrier and shields. Liara reached out, wreathed her mother into a biotic field, lifting her high, prepared to slam her into the ground - then Benezia’s whole body flashed blue, the pulse of power disrupted Liara’s control, threw away both Shepard and Wrex, leaving the Matriarch hovering in the air. With a gesture, Benezia threw a singularity at Garrus, almost wrenching him out from cover, before Liara destabilised the singularity with a throw of her own.

“You will not hurt my friends, Mother.” She would not recognize her sound later. Power bloomed around her as her corona surged into existence, flaring brighter than ever before as she focused her will, throwing biotic fields as quickly as she could at her mother, alternating throws, singularities, attempts to slam her down, to destabilise her with a warp field, anything she could think of. Anything to keep her occupied, to deny her the few seconds she needed to lock them in a stasis field. She did not care that thin rivulets of blood started leaking from her nostrils, ignored the pain and burning of her nerves, the pounding ache in her head. She bared her teeth in a feral, blood-flecked snarl, and fought on.

Evidently, despite her centuries of experience and immense skill with her biotics, Benezia was not a true warrior; whatever combat instincts her long-ago huntress training and fights instilled in her were rustier than she thought - or perhaps the head-on confrontation with her daughter really did take so much of her attention. At any rate, she missed how Wrex and Shepard managed to pull themselves out from the wreckage of geth and Prothean machinery. She might have also missed the circle of hoarfrost spreading out from the Spectre, and the biotic aura building up around the warlord. What she could not miss was the old krogan slamming into her like a biotically-empowered freight train, the impact disrupting her control with explosive results that sent Benezia flying. Even before she hit the ground, Shepard was  _ moving _ , his eyes flaring with golden power, his omniblade unerringly aiming for the back of her head, as he somehow anticipated her path and aligned his weapon perfectly.

The shimmering omniblade bit deep into the strange metal that crept over the Matriarch’s head, the armor preventing the blade from sinking deep into the asari’s brain, or even to do more than prickle her skin. Benezia’s eyes flared with green corpse-light and lightning arced from her, scorching the floor, scoring furrows into the armor of Shepard and Wrex, as the ancient asari stood tall, a wrathful goddess prepared to strike down the unworthy. She was wreathed in snaking tendrils of corpse-green energy, her whole body covered by the fluid, dark grey metal armor that seemed to suck in light. A shot from Garrus was melted in the air by a bolt of energy lashing out from her body. Liara threw a biotic field at her, the Matriarch not even bothering to dodge, the metallic suit rippling as water while it absorbed the dark energy. Wrex slammed into Benezia, making her sway, his shotgun discharging with a roar from point-blank range, droplets of the liquid armor spraying from the impact, and for a fraction of a second, blue skin flashed beneath the unnatural metal. The old warlord did not hesitate, and his free hand, wreathed in blue, slammed straight into the asari’s ribs, breaking at least two of them, and sent her tottering back. 

The krogan followed her, ignoring the savage energy lashing over his massive frame, pounding away at her armor, the impacts sending ripples racing on the grey surface. Garrus fired again, Benezia’s head jerking to the side, flecks of armor splattering from the hit but the armor held. Liara’s warp field hit her mother, the biotic field eating into the armor, sending rivulets of metal cascading down. Then the ancient asari shrieked, the sound carrying metallic, machinelike undertones, knifing into the mind of all present. The still-standing quarians fell to their knees, several of them jerking and spasming as if in seizures. Garrus and Liara both swayed, clapping hands to their ears even over the audio filters of their helmets. Wrex roared and struck again and again, despite tendrils of lightning snaking their way all over his body, melting furrows into his armor, boiling away flesh and sinew, before a pulse of green-tinged biotic power flung him away.

Benezia rose into the air once more, her face twisted into a savage snarl, energy pooling in her eyes, flaring in her corona in preparation for scouring the vault clean of her attackers. A flash of movement drew Liara’s gaze to the side, and her eyes widened. Shepard was standing tall, darkness and insane colors flickering and flitting over his frame as he raised a hand, the very air seeming to burn as he traced a symbol before him, and the young asari felt it searing into her soul. Then the Spectre spoke, his voice a gurgling, drowning, insane sound that bypassed their ears and echoed in their minds. Liara saw blood streaming from his eyes, something spattering the inside of his helmet as he barked those inhuman syllables that made reality itself ripple and clawed at the sanity of those who heard them.

The Matriarch convulsed, fell to the ground, violently spasming, coughing, as the armor drew away from her mouth and she vomited forth a torrent of brackish, foul-smelling fluid - and then a spark of the green lightning touched the rapidly growing puddle of foulness beneath her heaving form. The green fire ignited the vile stuff Benezia was still coughing up, and turned her into a pillar of burning agony denied even the possibility of howling out her agony as her body and the very source of her new powers turned against her.

Shepard fell to his knees with a crash, panting as he wrenched the helmet from his head and spat bloody phlegm on the ground. Liara was torn for a moment, before she stepped to his side, reaching out to help him up. She saw his eyes focusing behind her then go wide, and he tackled her to the ground as a flame-wreathed hand of Benezia gestured, and a singularity spun into being directly over the matriarch, the miniature black hole snuffing out most of the flames, and the ancient asari gazed at them, her eyes the same blue color as Liara’s own as her mouth formed the words, the question she no longer had the lungs to utter aloud, and Liara nodded, her hand gripping Shepard’s fingers tight as the eyes of the two asari swirled void-black for an eternal moment. Benezia suddenly wrenched her head back, the burnt remnants of the grey armor again creeping up to engulf her face - then a krogan shotgun boomed, and it was over.


	16. Chapter 13

##  **Citadel, Widow system**

For all the warnings, preparations, and the raised alertness levels, the defenders were still caught off guard. In hindsight, there were recriminations, investigations and flinging of accusations, but in reality, no-one could have imagined the attack would start like this. Admirals Vipsania and Lidanya put their ships in position to defend against anything that came through the Widow relay, C-Sec tactical teams were on high alert, reinforced by Blackwatch, Serrice Guard, STG, and N-level strike teams. The traditionally shady districts of the vast station were heavily patrolled in case Saren attempted to smuggle geth onboard similar to what he pulled on Noveria. Traffic control, especially the relay network oversight was paying much closer attention to ship movements, and the patrol craft boarded all vessels that were found to be even the least bit suspicious - or had too clean or too new records. Sure, the increase in paranoia was causing mutterings, but with the leaked hints and evidence of a geth offensive, the popular opinion on the station was that the new measures, while certainly heavy-handed, were unfortunately warranted.

Even so, Jondum Bau could not stop fretting. He knew, he felt that they were missing something, and that it would cost them dearly. He paced in the conference room, occasionally glaring at the screens showing various feeds from the Citadel and its defense forces, or his two subordinates who were currently brainstorming about likely scenarios for Saren’s attack routes and methods. The salarian Spectre brought up his omnitool to check in with the Executor, when the Relay Memorial lit up, its core starting to spin. Surprise, dread, and recognition flashed across the minds of the three agents, and as the first group of geth materialized from the blinding flash of a relay transition, a sweep of Bau’s omnitool sent all alarms in the Citadel howling.

For a significant number of on-board defenders, the commendably swift action came too late. Explosions bloomed in several strategic locations, depriving C-Sec of landing pads, communications relays, personnel. Asari huntresses, acolytes and adherents to a corrupted Matriarch turned their biotics and weapons against those in their vicinity - and Bau cursed as their obvious mistake manifested itself. Still, he was the ranking Spectre. Recriminations and self-flagellation could wait, he had a duty. The salarian’s omnitool lit up, fingers hammering instructions with quick precision, falling back on recently-established tertiary channels as he found the usual primaries (even the dedicated Spectre channels) jammed.

“Tela, get the Council off the station and into safety; do not let them get out of your sight.” The asari nodded, and Bau went on. “Nihlus, find the Blackwatch commander and hold the Council Chambers. If Saren’s not heading there, you are free to operate as you see fit.” The turian acknowledged with a nod, then the trio were in the lobby - coming face to face with a dozen asari and twice that many geth Juggernauts and Destroyers headed by a grayish-green Prime. 

With a shriek of rage and the boom of displaced air, Tela charged into them, the biotic explosion pulverizing two of the huntresses, the Spectre’s first shot turned the head of a third into fragments of bone and brain matter. Thrusters flared as Nihlus’ jump pack came alive, the turian weaving through the barrage of bullets and energy discharges sent his way, his rifle punching holes through a Juggernaut’s armor. Bau’s handcannon tore a hole into the Prime’s chest, the salarian evading the mech’s shots with boneless grace and fluidity, his omnitool sent an overload charge into a Juggernaut attempting to crush him flat. The geth’s shields went down, and Nihlus immediately sent a bullet into its head. Tela vanished into a blur of blue light, her charge sending the Prime stumbling, the mech’s barrier dissipating with a shower of sparks - and the asari Spectre, her face a mask of cold fury, punched a biotic-wreathed fist deep into the chest of the Prime unit, the mech practically disintegrating from the force of the blow.

Still facing half dozen commandos and roughly fifteen geth units, Bau didn’t hesitate.

“You two have your orders. Go!”

The roar of thrusters pushed to their limits and the sonic boom of a biotic charge were the only answers. The salarian Spectre turned towards his assailants, and permitted himself a small grin, then he launched himself at them. He evaded strikes and shots with precise grace and snake-like swiftness, his whole body weaving an almost hypnotic dance of death, killing or maiming with every blow or shot he dealt. His omnitool spat overload charges and plasma bursts as fast as it could, his sidearm spat high-caliber bullet comparable to a krogan shotgun, his veins and nerves burned with the hyperawareness and speed of combat stims flooding his system. About two minutes later, he was panting as he stood amidst the carnage, before he set off towards the Citadel Traffic Control.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel Station**

Others were not so fortunate or skilled as them. At the C-Sec headquarters, a long-serving asari member released a virus into their network that would fuse the armory doors shut, close the blast doors, and fry the sensor grid. Her first task complete, she walked to the locker room during shift change - and with an empty, eerie smile, used her biotics to trigger the bomb she had been implanted with. There were few survivors.

On the Presidium, near the Relay Monument, an unlucky C-Sec patrol was practically at ground zero for the invading geth, and the corpse-green lightning from the geth weaponry reduced them to bloody smears on the floor.

On board the  _ Destiny Ascension _ , Admiral Lidanya’s security forces battled desperately against a small but dedicated group of huntresses who were fortunately eliminated before they could send the drive core into meltdown. Similar skirmishes flared up on several other cruisers of her fleet, mostly with the same results; the saboteurs only managed to cripple two of her ships.

At the Citadel Traffic Control, a turian administrator set the relay usage alarms to silent, before releasing a full-energy overload charge into the face of his coworker, frying the man’s nerves. He then attempted to vector a number of repair and supply ships on collision course; fortunately the C-Sec personnel who were on guard duty managed to shoot him dead.

C-Sec units patrolling the Lower Wards faced a rioting mob of crazed human, asari, and turian cultists ranting about the end of the world, and were forced to open fire.

At the Embassy Wing, the human special forces were bogged down into a firefight with a trio of geth Colossi supported by hundreds of smaller platforms; they were holding back the mechs but were pinned down.

Standard military and emergency communications were a jumble of jamming, distortion, and urgent requests for assistance and direction. The Relay Monument was spinning constantly, more and more geth emerging from transition, marching off with mechanical precision towards already-identified points of resistance.

Aboard the  _ Stalwart _ , Admiral Vipsania barked commands to her subordinates and crew, pulling her ships away from a helium tanker whose drive core was showing signs of a critical meltdown.

The furious Tela Vasir, her armor a dented, broken, blood-and-fluid-drenched mess, her shotgun’s ammo block almost empty, managed to reach the Councilors before Saren’s agents could (leaving the remains of said assassins all over the access corridor), and set off towards the  _ Destiny Ascension _ on Valern’s private shuttle.

A battered, bruised Nihlus and his Blackwatch team were slowly being forced back towards the Council Tower, as Saren personally led his forces against them, the firefight turning the area into a pockmarked hellhole of bullets, energy beams, blood and pieces of geth platforms.

Saren’s mandibles flared in a savage, eager grin as he felt the resistance faltering in the face of his overwhelming first strike. He briefly closed his eyes, his mind racing to send out a signal, a message using the implants Sovereign has seen fit to gift him with.

Beyond the war-torn Citadel, in the cold void, the Widow Relay lit up like a baleful eye, and with the pseudo-motion of the relay jump, the geth armada, spearheaded by Sovereign itself, jumped in-system.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel, nearspace**

Inside the Council Chambers, long-dormant systems awoke as Sovereign emerged from the mass relay, and sent the activation signal. The Citadel very slowly started to reorient itself, its arms opening with stately grace to their furthest width. The black dreadnought headed directly for the center of the station, its progress slow but inexorable as geth ships swarmed around it, moving onto firing positions - then as one, the ships of the geth armada opened fire on the defenders. 

On the flag bridge of the  _ Stalwart _ , Admiral Vipsania could not suppress a grimace as she saw the updates on the tactical plot as her flagship shuddered from the geth barrage, and flames engulfed several of her already-damaged frigates and cruisers. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes as her mind raced to plan and find a solution. Her mandibles flared in a furious snarl as she issued new orders for her still-battered fleet and pushed her own feelings deep down her soul. She could not afford them, not now. At her command, the Seventh Fleet locked in their targets, then vanished into FTL, dropping out within knife range of the incoming geth vessels, immediately firing. Explosions blossomed in the cold void as ships crashed into each other due to miscalculated jumps, others blew up from direct hits or were sliced apart by full-powered laser arrays. She knew that her people could not endure long, and had little hope of stopping Sovereign’s advance, but they only needed a minute or two, for Lidanya’s fleet to arrive and Hackett’s ships to emerge from the Widow Relay.

Her stomach dropped as an alert flashed on her console, signalling the relay going dormant, the control signal apparently having been sent by the Reaper, and strong enough to override the Citadel Control signal; or perhaps someone managed to switch that off. Vipsania cursed herself for not considering this possibility more seriously, for ranking the possibility as acceptable risk - then she steeled herself, standing tall, and at her command, the ECM suites of the Seventh Fleet went online at full power, the concentrated electronic noise enough to disrupt even Sovereign’s control signal. The turian jamming was enough to stop the Citadel’s rotation, but the geth retaliation took an even greater toll than she feared; still, Vipsania’s people were turians, they knew their duty, and performed it with peerless discipline and consummate skill. Even as the  _ Stalwart  _ trembled under her again and again, the turian admiral felt a fierce pride towards her crew - and she knew that every moment they held on brought at least the asari ships closer.

++++++

The  _ Destiny Ascension _ ’s flag bridge was the picture of controlled chaos, as Admiral Lidanya and her staff struggled to coordinate the embattled asari task force to provide support for the Seventh Fleet. The matriarch glared at her tactical plot, forcing herself to keep pace with the mounting losses of the turians, the fact that the small task force of Commodore Anderson was already heading towards the attackers while her own ships were left behind, thanks to Goddess-damned saboteurs. And if that was not enough, she had to pick up those idiots from the Council. What was that insane Spectre thinking? Did those politicians hope that she would take her flagship and run? Admittedly, she could see scenarios where that would have been her selected course, but not here and now, and not just because the relay has been shut down. No, Lidanya figured if they did not stop Saren, Sovereign and their geth cronies here, there was precious little point in running.

At least Vasir had enough sense to keep the Councilors from interfering, having confined them to an out-of-the-way suite that was close enough to the hangar deck. The asari admiral checked her plot again as the flagship’s sensors displayed the huge ECM spike from Vipsania’s ships, and the almost immediately launched salvo from Anderson’s ships, all aimed at Sovereign. Howling, giggling tentacles of unlight whipped and clawed at the black hull of the Reaper, carving furrows of gray screams into it before the corpse-green lightning of Sovereign’s defenses erased them from existence, and Lidanya cursed as the wounds torn into the behemoth’s hide closed up, the black ship never altering course or speed, heading inexorably for the Citadel.

The admiral’s fingers clenched on the armrests as her mind raced, calculating, assessing. Her face became an ancient burial mask as she nodded to herself, confirming that her ship was in proper position. With slightly trembling fingers, she entered the targeting coordinates, the system accepting her biometric identification. A quick command of hers sent a warning over the tactical net, and she hoped that it was received and heeded despite the blanket of electronic noise and garbage data filling the void. A last check brought a vicious snarl on her face, and she slammed her fist on the control panel. The lights of the ship dimmed, flickered as the power draw spiked.

Motes of scintillating light started coalescing in the vast open chamber of the  _ Destiny Ascension _ ’s main gun. The dust of dreams, shards of nightmares, flares of passion merged with the screams of dead and dying, the pain of wounds, guilt of survival, fierce determination, joy of battle, terror, rage, awe - all that and more became encapsulated in those swirling points of impossible colors. The black void brightened, went taut, reality itself straining as the ancient mechanism hummed ever stronger, building to a frenetic crescendo of insane unreality, a miniature star awakening to life in the darkness. Aboard the hundreds of vessels and the immense mass of the Citadel itself, thousands of asari, dozens of humans, a handful of krogan and turians seized for a heartbeat, blood running from their eyes, ears, and mouths as the light about to be born uncaringly tore off fragments of their soul, with at times disastrous, explosive consequences - and those dying embers were simply greedily absorbed into the emerging vortex of unnameable colors.

The scintillating, growing ball of light pulsed with the heartbeat of imagination, of unreal potential, its tendrils of ethereal claws ripping open the taut, thin veil of material reality, and then the impossible beam of incandescent light and power was born with a howl echoing in the mind of all sensitives present in the Widow system and beyond; then the swirling, pulsing, immaterial beam was racing out towards the solid void-black shape of Sovereign, and the physical, sane reality of the materium wept and warped in its wake. 

The Reaper sensed the energy buildup, realized the source and direction of the powerful beam of energy - and that realization, that memory threw its cold, machine-like precision into a loop, as it struggled to understand, to ascertain that this was not a time-eaten, half-forgotten memory but an actual, clear and present danger. Within the tomb-deep mind of the ancient being, a tremor of unfamiliar, forgotten emotion spread wings for an aeons-long second, rendering the Reaper unable to evade, to pit its formidable defenses against the impossible attack. How could these insignificant worms have found a way around his brother’s safety measures? Had he deliberately sabotaged them, so he would get damaged, hurt? Did he want to usurp the Harvest for himself, to break their pact that stood since time immemorial?

The beam of unreality hit the center of Sovereign’s hull, and a legion of souls screamed in discordant agony and ecstatic freedom as they burned, the ancient dreadnought reeling from the blow, power, knowledge and sentience bleeding away from the wound it was dealt, its howl of pain echoing beyond the boundaries of the four-dimensional space.

On board of a slender vessel in the dark, interstellar void, a grim-faced professor allowed himself a small smile. In an ageless city of shadows, lies and treachery, a fair maiden shared a satisfied nod with a masked jester, before the two joined their brothers and sisters. Tremors shook the Noctis research facility on Mars, as if a sleeper spasmed from the shared pain. Beyond the baleful light of the Omega-4 Relay, warnings flashed in the depths of an ancient station, its inhabitants swarming to wakefulness. In the crushing oceanic depths of the geothermal vents of a distant world, a spark of grim, vindictive satisfaction ignited. On board the Citadel, Saren swayed drunkenly, roaring in pain, the geth on the station losing coordination for several seconds. In the starless void of the Outer Dark, far above the galactic plane, Tsara’noga stirred as the pain and loss jolted it closer to awakening, six baleful eyes illuminating the darkness as the Harbinger of its Wrath.

For a few crucial seconds, Sovereign struggled to rebalance its internal systems, to enact vengeance upon the pitiful worms that dared to use a bastardized version of those long-destroyed star forts; crimson light and energy pooled at the firing chamber of its main gun, ready to fire and slice apart the foe who wounded it. Then another salvo arrived from the turian and human ships, and this time, there was no defense to stand in the way of those giggling vortices of tentacled light.

Gray pallor burrowed into the dreadnought’s hull, turned the ancient vessel a brittle, insensate, decaying husk wherever it went. Lights and power flickered and died aboard the Reaper, corpse-green lightning struggling in vain against nameless colors of light. The void howled as the vortices of color imploded, tearing off chunks from Sovereign, leaving wounds seeping with glittering, unreal hues. The immense dreadnought’s fury lashed out with beams of molten metal that sliced through shields and ships alike - yet it was unable to touch the real targets of its fury. Whenever it turned to fire on the larger human vessels or the  _ Destiny Ascension _ , there was always a frigate or a cruiser (either turian or munitions-depleted human) that shielded Sovereign’s targets from the Reaper’s wrath, spending their lives to buy time for another salvo that would hopefully destroy it. 

Sovereign’s fury threatened to overwhelm its control, as it realized that without the geth, the defenders would have stood a good chance at crippling it, and even with the assistance of the inferior machines, its victory was nowhere near ensured. Concentrating its power on keeping the Widow Relay closed, the tendrils of its will reached out towards the chosen augmented vessel aboard the Citadel - and in the Council Tower, Saren Arterius howled, his implants flaring with coruscating energy as his master’s immortal rage and ruthless determination poured into his soul and body.

Behind the frontlines on the Presidium, the Relay Monument, silent for some minutes now, once again flared with the energy of transition, and four shapes appeared, a protective biotic barrier sheltering them.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel, Presidium**

Urdnot Wrex grinned savagely as he stood tall amidst the war-torn vista the Presidium had become. It seemed that their arrival has gone largely unnoticed, and the old warlord allowed himself a few moments to evaluate the situation - and to give his krannt some more time to get over the nauseating experience of the relay travel. Cracking his old bones, he considered for a moment, searching his long memory for something comparable, and nodded when he found nothing similar - and he was grateful for that in a way; the wrenching, tearing sensation was worse than the Butcher’s driving by at least an order of magnitude. Good thing he did not eat much before the human suggested this insane idea. Though with the lack of biotics, he was sure that no further reinforcements were coming to their aid - but then again, Saren and his lackeys would also be trapped in here with them. The old warlord felt a fierce anticipation at facing the traitor Spectre - and tearing off his head for the atrocity he ordered on Virmire.

His experienced eyes took in the signs of desperate combat, the bullet- and scorch-marked path of a fighting withdrawal towards the Council Tower, the haphazard destruction of panic fire elsewhere. The bodies and geth wrecks littering the once-pristine metal floor of the station. His senses and sensors tracked for the distant sounds of combat, mind and instincts already at work laying out plans, actions, submitting to the red haze of rage at the sight of the small bodies strewn here and there. With age-old experience, Wrex suppressed the unseeing violence of the bloodrage, holding it back, priming it for later. A menacing, low growl slipped from his maw, the subsonics making even the Butcher eye him warily.

The young asari laid a blue hand on his shoulder, and the old krogan smirked appreciatively - her eyes and stance showed her fear, but despite that, she was willing and able to display her worry for her friend, a member of their krannt. He thought she would make a fine pair with the human - and the krogan chuckled lightly, the Spectre rolling his eyes at him while the human listened to his comm, with a hand to his earbud.

“So, Butcher - this does bring back memories, doesn’t it?”

Shepard’s eyes narrowed, the temperature dropping slightly, those gold flecks in his eyes flickering with baleful heat. Wrex held the stare, matching the human’s will with his own.

“Torfan was a necessary lesson written in blood. This massacre” the Spectre gestures around “is none of that. Though admittedly, I would have done it similarly in Saren’s place.”

Garrus chimed in, his flanging voice carrying an undertone of revulsion and understanding.

“Worst thing is that I can understand Saren’s reasoning for all this.” 

Wrex nodded at them, noting the asari’s momentary confusion but decided not to enlighten her. She would learn on her own, with the occasional nudge when needed - and this was neither the time nor the place for that. Shepard apparently finished his conversation and started checking his pistols and gear with quick, thorough motions before he spoke.

“Comm net is a mess, but somehow Bau managed to get through. From what I could understand, he’s at the Traffic Control, trying to reopen the Widow Relay. The Council’s aboard one of the ships out there, likely on the  _ Destiny Ascension _ . Saren’s heading towards the Council Chambers, with Nihlus and his Blackwatch team doing their best to slow him down. If we are lucky and quick enough, we just might hit the bastard in the back while he’s occupied with the turians.”

With deliberate, menacing slowness, Wrex turned towards the Council Tower.

“Are you three coming, or what?”

The comment did as intended. Liara blushed lightly, before joining him, blue-white flames of biotic energy snaking their way along her arms and shoulders. Garrus chuckled before checking his sniper rifle, gesturing towards a position from where he could cover them on the approach. Shepard narrowed his eyes, then nodded with a fierce grin.

“Try to keep up, old turtle.”

Before even finishing that sentence, the Spectre was off, running towards the tower with full speed. Wrex nudged the young asari.

“See, kid, that’s again krogan-style courting. He’s sweet on you, I can tell.”

With a deep, rumbling laughter and the boom of displaced air, the old warlord joined Shepard’s charge, trusting Garrus to pick off any dangers the two of them were unaware of - and in the trailing Liara to shield them from whatever got past the turian and remained unspotted by the duo.

++++++

Garrus bit back a curse when the two bloodthirsty lunatics raced off well before he could reach his selected position. His first shot, fired while running, missed, and the geth Destroyer only staggered with a sparking, half-torn arm instead of a headshot. Still, at least he got the thing’s attention, and with a desperate leap, managed to get behind some half-melted mound of debris to avoid the green energy beam heading towards him. With a roll, he came up in a firing position, his second shot tearing off the head of the mech. 

He sprinted on, grumbling about the inaccuracy and poor marksmanship while he fired, with a few choice remarks about insane humans and typical krogan - which were only answered by booming laughter. Admittedly, the two maniacs were quite impressive, and for a long moment, Garrus was mesmerized by the carnage the krogan and the human were leaving in their wake - and even more impressive was the effortless, almost preternatural coordination between them. Never mind their stupid recklessness, the two were simply dancing around their enemies, never standing still, always moving in perfect harmony, covering and supporting each other as needed. If he hadn’t known otherwise, he would have sworn there was years of close work involved in such coordination, yet here they were, proving him wrong.

He smirked before opening a comm channel while he sent a disruptor round into the geth Hunter trying to sneak behind Liara, collapsing the mech’s stealth field, leaving it to the asari to crumple the thing with her biotics.

“Careful, Shepard - the way you and Wrex go on, Liara will get jealous.”

The indignant, sputtering denial from the asari and the frustrated growl from Shepard were almost lost under the deep laughter of Wrex - before the roar of the krogan’s shotgun suppressed it all. Garrus blink-clicked his kill-counter, and restarted his playlist as he sighted down his scope, before sending a bullet into the eye of an asari Huntress moving to flank the old warlord. He was aware that in all likelihood he’d miss the final confrontation with Saren, but he was a turian, and he would do his duty in ensuring that his friends and comrades reached there in one piece. A quick flick of his omnitool sent several small proximity charges into a pattern around him, to ensure that he’d not be disturbed. A check of his rifle’s ammo block and heat sink resulted in a flaring grin that widened as his shot slammed into the head of a Prime, staggering the large mech, the distraction more than enough for Wrex to tear it apart.

“Come on, you walking flashlights, I can do this all day.”

++++++

Liara was racing to keep up with Wrex and Shepard, flinging biotic fields with both hands, her heart beating wildly from sheer exhilaration and the tightly-suppressed terror she felt as the three of them were running after the architect of this massacre. The last message of her mother still seared fresh in her mind, the young asari bared her teeth in a savage snarl as she grabbed a geth Prime with her will, and clenched her fist. The biotic field wrapped around the mech obeyed her, and with a dulled implosion, the hulking thing was compressed to the size of a krogan head. With a small, vindictive smile on her face, she ran on, trying to keep Shepard and Wrex in her sight.

She did not care about the distant, pounding headache that seemed to be gathering momentum behind her eyes. She disregarded the burning, straining muscles of her body. She focused her determination and will, keeping the simple, short-term goals in mind; after they reached the Council Tower and put down Saren as insane beasts like him deserved, she could worry about the long-term consequences. If she and her friends lived long enough, that is.

Her blue eyes flashing with power and rage, she shouted as she sent a massive push ahead of her companions, the wave of biotic might smashing geth platforms, asari Huntresses and turian zealots into the wall of the tower. Before they could recover, a huge krogan slammed into them like a speeding freight conveyor, the explosion of the biotic charge scattering body parts and pieces everywhere. Those who escaped the warlord’s wrath did not survive much longer, as Shepard reached them a few heartbeats later.

Panting, tired, but with a fierce satisfaction beating in her heart, Liara followed Wrex and Shepard as the trio stepped into one of the elevators to head up towards the Council Chambers. With a quick hack, the Spectre overrode the security settings, sending them upwards much faster than usual.

++++++

The elevator lurched to a sudden stop, and Liara tottered off-balance, before Shepard steadied her. The Spectre quickly went to work at the control panel, his omnitool flashing as he tried to restart their ascent. Wrex was looking outside, towards the magnificent view of the Widow system - and the young asari took a step back to nudge Shepard as she realized what held the krogan’s attention.

“I’m busy, T’Soni, give me a minute.”

“You might want to look anyway, Shepard. This is not something you see every day.” There was an undertone in the old warlord’s voice that Liara could not exactly place. Worry? Awe? Fear? She certainly knew which emotion was the strongest in herself.

The Spectre turned towards the viewport, and his eyes widened as he spat a curse in an unfamiliar language.

They could see the black ship closing rapidly, unheeding of the explosions blossoming over its hull. At least it was damaged by something, and Shepard’s short, vindictive bark of laughter suggested the source of those gray furrows, though she could not see how the human weaponry could blast such a sizable hole in the Reaper’s hull. But at that moment, such details were rather unimportant. The crucial issue was that Sovereign was approaching fast, unhindered - and the Citadel arms were closing slowly, obviously intent in shielding the massive starship from the concentrated fury of the Council fleets. From the brief explosions beyond the black behemoth, the battle was still very much ongoing. The Reaper closed, its arms spreading wide, the intent to land or dock with the tower unmistakable. 

“Grab on to something!” Shepard followed his own advice, a hand going for the railing, the other to support Liara; just before the whole building shuddered as the massive mechanical monstrosity reached the tower, void-black metallic tendrils burrowing inside, as a clutch of baleful red eyes flashed triumphantly on the front section of the ship. They could all feel the thrumming energy cascading through the whole tower, sending sparks flying from consoles and access panels alike, fusing shut doors and hatches.

“Any bright ideas, Butcher? Maybe from your special bag of tricks?” The human shook his head, eyes narrowed as he thought. Liara shivered as the gold-flecked eyes flared with manic light.

“You’ll love it, Wrex. Check your mag-boots and suit up. We are going outside.”

Maybe even a short month ago, Liara would have protested the insane idea. She would have pointed out flaws, dangers, the recklessness, anything. Now, she just did as she was told without a word of complaint or hesitation. She did not miss the appreciative chuckle from Wrex, and she wasted an ineffective glare on him, their staredown only broken when Shepard shot out the viewing pane.

“Usually it’d be ladies first, but I think we will make an exception this time, T’Soni.” With a grin, the Spectre deftly flung himself outside, and leaned back to give a hand. Liara took it, and Wrex followed a few moments later. After a short pause to orient themselves and get used to the new direction, the trio raced towards the summit, where Saren and Sovereign waited.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel, nearspace**

Admiral Lidanya glared at her tactical plot, unheeding of the blood seeping from the cut on her scalp or her dislocated, perhaps broken arm - she was angry at herself, she should have foreseen that the mechanical bastards would not shy away from ramming and suicide runs. Her own side did not have a monopoly on insane, unorthodox tactics. At least her security teams managed to hunt down all boarders before they could do more than damage a few point-defense arrays and sensor repeaters. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that the assistance of that damn Spectre was rather vital in that quick, brutal fight - Vasir fought like a woman possessed, her fury easily matching that of the combat Matriarchs of old. And she made it look disturbingly good…

The admiral shook off the momentary lapse, and focused once again on the battlefield. The picture was grim, even though her fleet had managed to link up with the remnants of Vipsania’s and Anderson’s ships, and the combined might of the Council armada was more than a match for the geth, especially without their Reaper flagship. If this were a conventional engagement, she felt certain they’d be victorious in an hour or so - but this battle was anything but conventional, and the fact that Sovereign eluded them and was safely hidden within the closed Citadel rankled her. At least the behemoth’s absence allowed their own comm signals to punch through the geth interference.

“Admiral, signal from the Citadel Traffic Control!”

“Put it on my screen, and patch in Vipsania and Anderson as well.”

A disheveled salarian appeared in her view, bearing obvious marks from intense fighting - and the Spectre insignia. More than that, Lidanya knew this particular salarian.

“Matriarch, greetings. Traffic Control finally secure. Attempting to unlock the Widow relay. So far, no success.”

“What about the Citadel arms? Any chance of reopening them?”

“Negative. Spectre Kryik’s last report indicated that he was in heavy firefight against Saren within the Council Chambers; we currently have not enough assets for a breakthrough.” The salarian blinked, exhaled. “Spectre Shepard also made it to the Citadel, following Saren’s forces - currently he and his team are on their way to the Tower. Still, their chances are not good, they will be heavily outnumbered despite the efforts of Spectre Kryik and his team.”

Lidanya bit back a curse, and caught Anderson’s wince from the corner of her eye. Vipsania just nodded, seeming to age decades. Bau continued.

“Do you have the Council members on board, Admiral?” At her nod, some of the stiffness fell away from the salarian Spectre. “Good. That makes the following much easier.”

Something in his tone set the asari on edge, and she saw both Anderson and Vipsania stiffen in anticipation and dread - just like she herself. The Spectre continued, his voice cold, distant, toneless.

“If the situation on board the Citadel does not change within the next thirty minutes or you detect any new signal from Sovereign, you are ordered to open fire on the Citadel station itself. Blow away an arm, or destroy the whole station if needed, but do not allow Sovereign to succeed.”

Matriarch Lidanya felt herself shiver and her blood drained from her face. Her mind recoiled from the possibility - yet centuries spent as a commander prevented the instinctual outcry, forced her to evaluate the salarian’s command objectively. She closed her eyes for a moment, not seeing an alternative. A quick check of her fellow commanders showed that they too hated this idea, but neither of them voiced any opposition. They did not see any other solution, either.

Lidanya saluted the Spectre. Bau returned it, then signed off. 

“Admiral, I can take command of the bombardment fleet if you wish.” Vipsania’s voice was devoid of emotion, her stance stiff and erect as she spoke. Anderson closed his mouth, obviously preempted by the turian. Lidanya smiled at them, before shaking her head.

“My fleet, my responsibility.”

With a heavy heart, the admiral turned her attention back to the battle at hand, directing her forces to maneuver into bombardment positions, detailing fleet elements under Admiral Vipsania to batter the remaining geth ships into oblivion, while Commodore Anderson’s few remaining vessels took up position close to the  _ Destiny Ascension _ , their precious few remaining bombardment shells aimed at the Citadel.

Unnoticed in all the commotion and chaos of the still-raging fight, the Conduit once again stutters into life, the hesitant, erratic pulsing slowly straightening into the familiar rhythm of an incoming mass relay translation; the speed and energy spike indicating the largest transition handled by the Prothean relay so far.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel, Council Tower**

Urdnot Wrex was smiling slightly, and Liara considered the serene expression as much more disturbing and terrifying than the bloodthirsty howling of the cloned abominations or the unfeeling precision of the geth that sought to bar their way. She knew that under the tight control, a tsunami of wrath was slowly building up, every moment threatening to rupture the dam of the old warlord’s will. And while beneficial to them, she did not particularly want to experience what Wrex unleashed would be like. For a moment, she considered mentioning her worries to Shepard on a private channel, but she discarded that idea immediately - if she was aware of the situation, then she could be sure that the Spectre had known much earlier; and if he did not take action, then she would trust him to know what’s best. After all, for all their differences in age and race, she considered Wrex and Shepard disturbingly similar in many, many ways.

She once again focused ahead, the harrowing climb taxing her will and body alike. She knew that no matter how long she lived, the ascent would haunt her nightmares. The geth would have been bad enough, especially since they seemed to become better coordinated, quicker and more precise than even on Virmire and Ilos. Still, Saren’s nightmarish krogan were much, much worse, and not just because of the effect they had on Wrex. No, she was constantly terrified that her magboots would fail when one of those got her with a lift field, or that she would be too slow to notice them before their biotics tore her and her friends from the surface of the Tower, sending them all over to crash into the wards. Liara shuddered at the thought. She startled when a hand touched her shoulder, Shepard’s gaze boring into hers, worry, determination, and something she did not dare think about mixing in those gold-flecked brown eyes.

“Wrex found a maintenance hatch, he’s opening it now. We are going inside.” The Spectre’s lips peeled back, his teeth flashed in a bloodthirsty, savage smile. “Saren’s not far ahead, and is still tied up with Nihlus and his team.” She could hear the honest respect in his voice as he went on. “Crazy turian managed to stay alive and keep the barefaced bastard from his goal.” 

She leaned her head to the side, cheek against the hand on her shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment and enjoying the warmth. Just for a few short heartbeats, then her eyes snapped open, and she looked directly into the Spectre’s eyes, before giving a determined nod.

In a few minutes more, she and her friends would take Saren to task for what he’s done - to Benezia, to the krogans, to humanity; and for what he planned to do to the whole galaxy. Liara felt her biotics surging, as if infected by her own grim anticipation. Without further hesitation, she followed Wrex and Shepard into the access tunnel, focusing her mind on the task ahead.

++++++

The access corridor was a bullet-riddled, smoking hellscape, the walls scorched with plasma, tell-tale signs of warping biotic fields, electric discharges. Inactive geth platforms were heaped at and into makeshift barricades, along with torn and partially-consumed turians bearing C-Sec and Blackwatch insignia. Here and there, a few asari huntresses are also visible - more mindwiped acolytes of that insane Matriarch of theirs. Eyes narrowed in concentration, the mind of Warlord Urdnot Wrex reconstructed the fighting withdrawal of the defenders step by step, tracking for the tell-tale signs of his distorted, enslaved kin. Sure enough, while there were no krogan bodies, he could discern where their tainted blood spattered over the walls or joined in the pools on the floor. His clear focus wavered for a moment as rage almost overwhelmed reason.

The three of them jogged towards the Council Chambers, from where the gunfire, explosions, screams and geth chittering provided a good indication on the still-ongoing fight. He felt grudging respect towards those Blackwatch bastards - sure, their kind helped neuter his people, but they were tough, worthy enemies. Kind of like the Butcher and his ilk, though the newcomers were insane even by krogan standards, especially since they allowed their prized elites to willingly mess with those who dwelt beyond.

With a huff, Wrex set aside his musings. There would be more than enough time to kill Shepard if he went fully insane and turned on him and his people - for now, he had to deal with a traitor Spectre, and the moment of reckoning was drawing close.

For a moment, the trio paused at the wrecked door leading to the audience chamber, the warlord and the Spectre quickly evaluating the situation, grimly noting how the turian defenders were on the verge of being overwhelmed by the half dozen krogan monstrosities, supported by perhaps ten times as many larger geth platforms. 

Wrex looked at his krannt. The asari’s eyes were wide, her fear obvious - but so was the determination. She would not crack, not now; she’d die before letting them down and allowing her mother’s killer get away. The Butcher returned his measuring gaze with one of his own, the human’s lips peeling back in an ugly, savage grin that was eerily familiar to the warlord.

“Let’s not keep count, old turtle. If you want his hide, it’s yours.”

The old krogan nodded, before taking another quick look into the chamber, his mind calculating distances, angles, tracking for the traitor Spectre. A metallic blur with glowing eyes at the edge of his vision made him turn, and Saren was in his sights, slinking from the smoke and mayhem towards the control panels on the podium.

His vision became a tunnel of blue light, time seemed to slow to an infinitesimal crawl as always. When his twin hearts beat their next in that rising crescendo heralding the incoming eruption of volcanic wrath, he was already on the traitor, a fist wreathed in warping biotic energy sent droplets of metal, carapace, bone and blood spattering from the turian, the other hand discharging his oversized shotgun into Saren’s face point-blank. The bastard managed to pull his head away enough so it only got singed, tried to open the distance. Wrex slammed the butt of his rifle into the turian’s face, heard plates buckle and crack under the biotically-enhanced blow. Something slammed into his stomach, burning, flaying, drilling a hole through him. He slammed his plated forehead into Saren’s face, the sheer force sending the turian reeling - before the krogan’s empty hand latched on the turian’s arm, and wrenched, the limb dislocating with a sickening, metallic crack.

Heat suffused his chest as a metallic blade extended from Saren’s palm, missing his hearts by just a finger’s width. A swift strike from his elbow managed to buckle the arm at the end of the blade, and the shotgun boomed again. Blood, bones, and metal sprayed as the Spectre howled, the krogan’s shot almost tearing off the arm. Distantly Wrex was aware that Shepard was barely two-thirds of the way towards them, and that Liara was even farther away, but he did not care.  His knee slammed into the traitor’s guts, the force lifting the turian, who managed to roll with the blow, and slammed his shoulder into the krogan’s chestplate - and Wrex felt a spike of grudging respect as he heard the joint pop back into place.

A kick to his quad would have buckled lesser krogan, but the old warlord barely reacted at all, apart from slamming his fist into Saren’s guts once again, the impact sending the turian flying. His world once again turned to a blue-white tunnel of biotic fire, and Wrex was off in pursuit, still with that small smile on his face, still completely silent, lacking all his usual blustering laughter and roaring warcries - and he himself was not even aware of this.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel, nearspace**

Admiral Vipsania felt the cold dread mixed with desperate fury welling up within, as her almost-crippled flagship turned slowly back towards the Citadel, leaving the last remnants of the geth fleet as cored, broken hulls drifting harmlessly in space. She and her people, the entire defensive fleet of the Citadel paid an enormous price to wrest this victory from the machines - and as things stood, their sacrifices would be mostly in vain. And the thought that one of her own people, and Saren no less was responsible made her want to vomit, curse, and tear apart someone. And when she considered how quickly Bau made his decision, for a moment she did not know which of the two was more dangerous, more insane. At any rate, she decided she would view Spectres much, much more carefully in the future - and she would bet on not being the only one to do so.

Her eyes drifted back towards her plot, the countdown to that impending, massive atrocity they were about to commit. Something caught her attention on the sensor view. A reading that she was no longer hoping for - but then her eyes narrowed. in anger. The direction was wrong. Apparently, reinforcements were indeed incoming, but not for them. Saren’s geth allies on Ilos likely overwhelmed the quarians there, and fixed whatever Shepard did to mess with the relay. Still, she thought with a grim, bitter chuckle, at least more of the metallic bastards would perish when they bombarded the Citadel into oblivion.

And then her mandibles flared in a disbelieving expression as the Citadel arms started to open, the Widow Relay spinning up to receive incoming transit, and a transmission howled into all available channels, bearing the comm signifiers of the  _ SSV Normandy _ .

“Comms, tell me that Anderson and Lidanya also getting this transmission!” She did not wait for the affirmative. “Tactical, prepare a burst transmission of the situation, estimation of forces and contingeny plan Epsilon - if it’s Hackett’s ships coming through the Widow Relay, I want him in the loop the moment he’s here.”

The bridge of the wounded, battered  _ Stalwart  _ filled once again with hope that maybe, just maybe, they could win this battle.

The vessels of the Alliance Fifth Fleet swarmed through the Widow Relay, dispersing almost immediately according to pre-arranged formations that rapidly shifted once Admiral Hackett received the situation update from the defenders. At his command, the human ships lit up their drives, and raced at flank speed for the opening arms of the Citadel, where a small, nimble vessel was dancing around the still-quiescent form of Sovereign, the Reaper squatting over the Council Tower like a malevolent insect. Beams of incandescent light tore into the metallic tendrils anchoring the ebony dreadnought to the station, and one by one, the tendrils snapped apart, the sliced ends whipping across space, battering the already-damaged tower or seeking the frigate.

The immense Reaper seemed to fall away slowly from its position, the cluster of eyes glaring a baleful red, the pulse of its wrath sent warnings shrieking across the ships of the Citadel defenders. Then the firing chambers at the end of Sovereign’s metallic tentacles lit up with murderous fury, and thick red beams reached out to slice apart the incoming vessels, while howling, atonal shrieks of electronic garbage battered the sensors, blew out circuits, sought to rupture containment on drive cores, AI restraints, IFF systems.

Fifth Fleet answered with a triple-layered salvo of three hundred torpedoes, a full third of them carrying C-type warheads, the rest conventional payload, ECM and guidance packages. Sovereign’s defenses managed to stop more than half of the salvo - but even so, almost seventy C-type shells tore into its hull, the shrieking, insanely giggling vortices of light burrowed deep into its superstructure, tearing out bulkheads, machinery, metal and souls in equal measure. 

The void of the Widow System echoed with the mindless, furious howl of a once-prideful godling stripped of its invulnerability, those it considered mere gnats ripping away its very being, sending it on its way to oblivion. The rapidly-fading consciousness of Sovereign focused back towards his chosen puppet still on the Citadel. There was still a way for it to fulfill its task.

In the Council Chambers, the battered, bleeding wreck of a turian that was Saren Arterius opened its maw and screamed, a halo of coruscating energy lifting him in the air, his eyes igniting with corpse-green light.

* * *

 

###  **Citadel, Council Chambers**

The turian hovering high in the air is burning away in front of their eyes, his flesh and organs cooking off as the corpse-green tendrils of energy snake all over his frame. Minuscule metallic beetles tear free from within the body of the traitor Spectre, swarming over its form, obscuring it from sight. Saren’s limbs elongate, liquid metal covering his frame, mechanic, inhuman undertones echoing in his wordless, furious, pained howl. 

The remaining defenders concentrate fire on the transforming creature, the bullets swallowed by the swarm without apparent effect. A dismissive, almost lazy flick of a taloned hand sends an eye-searing green lightning towards the cluster of Blackwatch, the energy burning a path in the metal floor. A handful of them don’t manage to evade in time, and are flash-burnt to charred skeletons in an eyeblink. With a shriek of tearing metal and a wordless cry of hatred and fear, Liara’s biotics flare as she tears off a massive door and throws it at the Saren-thing. The sheet of metal parts easily as the hovering monster lifts a bladed arm in its path, but at least it is distracted for a fraction of a second.

“Nihlus, get your people the fuck out of here!” The wounded turian Spectre hesitates for a second, and Shepard glares at him, his eyes pools of molten gold. “Move, you stubborn bird! We’ll handle it!”

Hoarfrost spreads from the human, the temperature dropping sharply, their breaths pluming. As the turian survivors fall back, still firing in precise, controlled bursts and well-placed sniper rounds, the krogan warlord and human Spectre blur towards the Saren-thing. Liara races for cover, her biotics flaring as she hammers the monster with debris while trying to warp and melt a path through the swarm covering its metallic frame.

She is the farthest from the nightmarish shape, yet she’s the one who spots it - both Shepard and Wrex seem to slow down to barely a crawl, while their enemy flickers with eye-searing quickness, his bladed appendages spearing through Liara’s friends. She screams in denial, her corona ignites, and the whole chamber lights up with blue-white fire. A slash of her arm sends a biotic field severing the two blades, and before the two wounded could fall, her will reaches out, and yanks them back to her side, trying to be mindful of their wounds.

Human and krogan nod in respect towards her, his hand briefly squeezing her shoulder as she turns away to avoid seeing the idiots pulling out the cut blades from their wounds, the Spectre coughing blood as the medigel dispensers of his armor go to work, and even Wrex sways for a brief second as his secondary organs compensate for the damage done. The discarded metal blades dissolve into a pool that slowly starts inching towards the cruelly grinning figure of the Saren-thing. Shepard narrows his eyes at it, a quick shared glance with Wrex, the krogan stepping forward, his bulk shielding his companions - and Liara’s eyes widen for a moment as the human’s hands flash a mnemonic gesture at her, one that they had seen from Benezia several times. She swallows, and nods determinedly at the Spectre, the answering predatory smile sending her blood rushing.

Once again, the two warriors speed away, zig-zagging towards the hovering monster, but this time they don’t seek to overwhelm in close combat. Wrex fires his shotgun, the impacts swallowed by the beetle swarm, yet each time there’s a fraction of a second when that barrier weakens. The old warlord’s other hand directs his biotics, alternating between warp fields and attempting to slam the avatar either to the ground or the ceiling. Shepard’s heavy pistol fires in short bursts, disruptor ammo followed by incendiaries followed by AP rounds, while on his other hand the omnitool shines with malevolent orange light as it sends damping fields and overload charges at their enemy. Liara tenses, eyes narrowed, waiting for the right moment as she weaves and dodges from cover to cover, not standing still, not wanting to invite the monster’s fire.

At an unspoken signal, perhaps sensed through an unnoticed bond from their melds, the young asari stands tall, her figure limned in blue-white fire, as her will slams into Saren, her whole biotic might focused on holding him still, pushing him outside the normal flow of time. The reaction is not what any of them expected. Biotic field strains against chronometric manipulation, the tapestry of spacetime screaming in pain as the two forces vie for dominance. For an eternal moment, there is no sound, no movement, no  _ progression of time  _ in the chamber, then a thunderous detonation flings everyone away from the center.

The smile on the old warlord’s face widens a bit, becoming more predatory as he sees the thin tendrils of smoke rising from within the body of the avatar. Another heartbeat to take in the situation and to check on his krannt, then he is off once more into the blue-white haze of the biotic charge. He ignores the metallic scarabs flensing off layers from his armor and uncovered body parts, as his fist slams into the grinning skull-face of the Saren-thing, the strength of the blow enough to send droplets of the liquid metal spraying from the impact point. Gray talons grab and hold his wrist, locking him in place before he can dodge - not that he wanted to. After all, he has the traitor right where he wants it - and when the shotgun’s muzzle stabs into the fracture still trailing smoke, the old warlord permits himself a snarl of vindictive rage. The gun roars, and fragments of metal explode from the avatar’s back as the overcharged shot tears a hole in its body, sending it lurching away - but not before its fingers break the krogan’s wrist and send him flying, his trajectory ending with a sharp crack and a low hiss of pain as he crashes into the wall.

Shepard closes with blinding speed, a trail of frost marking his path, his omniblade biting deep into the body of the former Spectre, droplets of superheated metal spraying from the cut, as the pistol in his other hand is slammed into a green-glowing eye and before the thing could recoil, the weapon discharges point-blank. The creature howls more in fury than in pain, its remaining eye flashing with baleful corpse-light as lightning wreathes its body, tearing into the attacking Spectre, sending armor systems haywire, setting muscles spasming. With an effort of will and drawing on his inner reserves, Shepard manages to fling himself to the side, the blade aimed at his heart only tearing into his side, blood streaming from the wound before he hisses in pain, as he feels something burrowing within, towards his heart. With an effort of will, he  _ moves _ , putting distance between himself and the Saren-thing, before he aims his omnitool at the wound, grits his teeth and sends an overload charge straight in.

The Spectre flashes back to Liara’s side, a gesture of his sends Wrex into combat once more to hold back and distract the monster. 

“Can you try the stasis once more?” The asari’s face is a mask of blood. Some kind of feedback effect, most likely - he would have to care, he should care, but at the same time, he cannot afford it. Dazed blue eyes try to focus, sparks of biotic power flicker over her form before dissipating harmlessly, and she slumps, panting, trying to apologize. He flashes her a smile, and stands, taking a deep breath, considering his options for a heartbeat. He closes his eyes, and when they open, they are once again pools of molten gold, radiating a cold, terrible power. 

The N7 operative raises his hands, makes an intricate gesture, the very air burning with pale fire at his touch, the symbol lending power to his chanting. The unsane, inhuman syllables never meant for human use burn his throat, claw into his soul, he feels his hands and parts of his face going numb as blood vessels burst from the strain. The fabric of reality thins, sounds, colors, voices pale, become distant - only the echoing nonsensical words of Shepard are still clear. A second symbol flashes into being, power flooding the chamber from the cracks of unreality torn by the Spectre’s voice. The Saren-thing howls as its metal body starts to burn with white-hot fire, the fury of the molten core of a planet more than a match for the hypertech alloy. Metal dribbles and evaporates in frothing strands or is cracked and buckled by the ever-increasing pressure holding down the avatar - yet it raises its hand, the one working eye flashing with terrible malice and a green lightning tears a furrow into the station’s floor, boiling away metal, geth wreckage and turian corpses alike as it bears down on Shepard and Liara.

A shimmering, multi-layered biotic barrier stands in its way for an eternal moment, before it breaks under the brunt of the energy impacting its surface. Still, it does the job, and Urdnot Wrex is back to his krannt, shielding his comrades with his own body. Armor, flesh, and blood are boiled away with a hiss, and the old warlord snarls in pain. 

Shepard cries out in a voice echoing with thunderous power, and an iridescent, multifaceted dome of fractured dimensions shield them from the renewed fire of the Saren-thing, the beam ricocheting within the endless maze of unreality. Wrex tilts his head to the side, before grunting in satisfaction, giving the operative a nod of respect. The effort of maintaining the two spells simultaneously drives the operative to his knees, and even with the sliver of concentration he can spare, he notices the spark of recognition on the crackling metallic visage of the Saren-Reaper. The corpse-green beam reaches out once again, a long, continuous streak of energy, and as soon as it touches the surface of the protective dome, the beam starts to oscillate somehow, its pulse and rhythm slowly matching the dance of the dimensional rips, and it slowly starts inching deeper, ever closer to the trio, the avatar grinning in mirthless triumph, its face slowly melting away.

The operative chants on, heedless of the pain, of the blood trickling from his mouth, pooling in his lungs, ignoring the blinding pangs of headache as the strain of the spell mounts - he focuses all his will on the Reaper’s avatar, taking a vicious satisfaction that with each heartbeat, the malevolent sign burns away another chunk of it. Somewhere deep within his mind, Shepard runs the calculations, estimates time, distance, and comes to the grim conclusion that he will not be able to keep both spells going long enough to finish Saren - and he knows that as soon as he drops the shield, that monster will finish them off. Still, he does not see any other choice but to keep going and hope.

A moment of vertigo, of disorientation almost throws off the Spectre from his task. He does not feel the touch of blue fingers on his shoulder, but when the familiar presence enters his mindscape, lessening the strain, lending him further strength, he flashes a savage, predatory grin at the Saren-thing, his voice echoing in an ever-increasing crescendo of soul-tearing inhuman syllables older than time, and the avatar explodes into a shower of molten-hot droplets of metal that are crushed out of existence by the pressure of unreality. The cracked dome of iridescent facets disappears, the red-glowing, soul-searing sign fades from existence, and for a heartbeat, the operative involuntarily relaxes the barriers of his mind as his gaze locks with the swirling-black eyes of Liara.

“Get a room, you crazy kids.” The old krogan chuckles, before stepping away to double-check on Saren’s remains, not that he expects to find anything.

++++++

Out in the void, the broken, battered shell of Sovereign is still fighting, still reaping a bloody tally amongst the Citadel ships - two dozen cored, drifting, broken hulls a testament to its might. Even so, as an unknown energy source surges in the Council Chambers, sending the sensor net insane with contradictory, impossible returns, the still-immense bulk of the damaged dreadnought goes dormant. Three admirals, a commodore, and a mere XO all give the same command simultaneously, and a barrage of mass accelerator fire inundates the insensate Reaper, the last torpedo of the Normandy detonating deep within the carcass of the vessel, the explosion tearing apart the ship. The wreckage bombardment damages  large areas of the Wards, a sizable piece hitting the Council Tower itself.

A brief, satisfied moment of relaxation, then the comm net is alive with Admiral Hackett’s voice, directing ships to search and rescue operations, damage control, perimeter patrol - all the necessary tasks following a costly victory.


	17. Epilogue

The conference room of the  _ Destiny Ascension _ ’s flag bridge has certainly seen better days, but Admiral Lidanya could not recall ever hosting such an eclectic yet powerful assembly of individuals, from such rather different backgrounds. Of course in the light of recent events, she considered a number of those present as definitely trustworthy people - and she could not suppress a small, satisfied smile as she glanced at where Hackett and Vipsania were chatting softly, with Anderson giving an occasional comment. Even the politician contingent was grudgingly tolerated - at the very least, the three Councilors did not interfere with her during the battle, and judging by their actions since then, they were unlikely to give her or her colleagues grief about the battle. She was not entirely sure why they had brought up the human ambassador from the Citadel, but she had her suspicions.

No, it was the other two groups she was apprehensive about. She suspected she would not be the only person from now on who would watch the Spectres very, very carefully - and there were four of them here, just now. Sure, Tela Vasir was certainly an important reason her ship survived the boarding attempt with comparatively light losses, but she would not forget Bau’s cold order anytime soon. And while as a military officer she was used to the hard decisions, the sheer scale and quickness of the salarian’s order took her aback. Nihlus Kryik, even shot up and wounded as he was, would probably be under intense scrutiny in the coming days - as a turian, a Spectre, and Saren’s former protege, she was sure that a lot of people would not forgive him, even though according to the first available reports, he and his team played a key role in holding back Saren’s assault. As for Shepard, well, he would be surely suspected because he sheltered Benezia’s daughter, and unless Lidanya completely misread the young scientist, there was at least a one-sided attraction brewing between them. The admiral snorted, shook her head as her mind already flashed to the tabloid articles, faked videos and very likely baseless, tasteless speculations the media would come up with. Joy.

The cadre of people Shepard brought in were the other clutch she was unsure about. Benezia’s daughter she did not really care about - unless she was a better actress than Sha’ira, there was no way she was complicit in the events. Unless she is indoctrinated, her mind whispered, and her lips thinned into a grim line. Now that was a worrying thought, and a nice source of nightmares and paranoia. Her gaze met with that of Wrex, and she allowed herself a small grin as she nodded at the old warlord. At least he was just like in old times, changing very little. A small, questioning gesture of hers towards Shepard and Liara was answered by a ghost of a grin and a mirthful twinkle in the krogan’s eyes, and Lidanya nodded, satisfied. If Wrex did not see those two as a threat, then she would accept his decision. The young quarian sitting in the old warlord’s shadow was clearly nervous, and the admiral could easily understand her.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Tevos, Valern and Sparatus share a glance, the two males nodding towards the asari, and Tevos cleared her throat, and the room went silent.

“In light of the recent events, I believe we need quick action to do some damage control.” The glare the asari Councilor shot the chuckling Wrex was entirely ineffective. 

“First off, in light of their efforts during the Saren Crisis” Lidanya saw both Vipsania and Nihlus wince at the naming, “the Council decided to offer a permanent seat to the Systems Alliance. Ambassador Udina, unless your government decides otherwise, we would consider you as the best representative.” The politician’s face was a curious mix of pride and worry, but before he could answer, Tevos went on. “We already have an endorsement from Spectre Shepard, so you might want to mention that as well in your report.” Lidanya wasn’t the only one who could not suppress a snicker at Udina’s poleaxed look as he turned towards Shepard.

“What did you expect, Ambassador? You are already here, you know these people, you love politics, you have some spine and brains - why wouldn’t I endorse your candidacy?” Shepard’s voice was still raspy, the damage to his lungs and throat more severe than what could be fixed in a single hour. Udina blinked, swallowed, then nodded respectfully towards both the Spectre and Tevos.

“Pending on the approval from the Alliance, I’ll accept the offer gladly.”

The asari nodded, and went on.

“We also decided that we offer a seat to the Migrant Fleet as well,” her raised hand shut off Tali’s exuberant squeal “with a few stipulations. While your representative will get full voting rights, the seat is a temporary, five-year arrangement. After that, the Council will review if the conflict with the geth is closer to a final solution - and the five members will vote on finalizing the quarian membership depending on that progress.”

Tali’s mouthpiece glowed, but no understandable sounds came out other than some high-pitched wheezing gibbering. Wrex nudged her and sent Tevos a toothy smirk.

“I believe the kid accepts.”

Tevos nodded with a small smile, before she looked at each of the people in the room, her whole presence subtly altered, conveying the gravitas and wisdom of a leader who guided her people through the turbulence of galactic politics for centuries.

“The other main issue with must address pertains to Sovereign and its origins.” Again she raised a hand, forestalling and stopping angry protests and mutterings. “We will not deny that it represented a much different threat than the geth. We will not deny the possibility or the need to prepare should there be others like it, as we could infer from Spectre Shepard’s report from the Virmire encounter. What we absolutely cannot afford, however, is for those information to became the official, public version.”

“What?” Shepard’s voice was tinged with disbelief, and he turned a betrayed, angry gaze at Udina, when the man chuckled, the sound bitter.

“Think, Shepard. How would the masses of people react to situations like a potential galactic destruction? Would you want to deal with that hysteria? The innumerable insane doomsday cults that would pop up within hours, days at best? The idiots who would welcome Sovereign’s ilk with open arms, preaching about peaceful coexistence? The opportunists who would try to enjoy the chaos? The genuine turncoats, who would side with the Reapers, just to live for a bit longer?” The ambassador’s voice was cold, bitter, his smile cynical. “Don’t you think fringe elements in all governments would not try to use another crisis like this to their own short-term advantage? And that’s not even going into indoctrination. If you want to spearhead the witchhunt that will surely follow that little tidbit going public, I can’t really stop you.”

The operative looked suddenly much older, fragile, as he nodded at Udina’s words.

“Put like that, you are correct.” His eyes flashed with an angry glow. “Does not mean I have to like it.”

Tevos’ voice was smooth, cool, but unyielding.

“None of us do, Spectre. That does not change the fact that Councilor Udina’s assessment is entirely in line with our own reasoning.”

Sparatus took over.

“The Council will start increasing military readiness across the board. With the Battle of the Citadel, I foresee no problem in getting appropriate funding from the members, as long as we frame it correctly and move quickly enough. Also ” his eyes turned towards Bau, the salarian drawing himself up, returning the turian’s gaze calmly “I want Spectre Bau to revise the status of our agents, and take the necessary steps to ensure that the Saren fiasco will not be repeated.”

Valern.

“We will take steps to ensure that the various information brokers, including the Shadow Broker are kept in the dark as much as possible, with regards to the true nature of the threat posed by Sovereign.” His gaze turned towards Wrex, the krogan’s menacing smile chilling the air in the room. “I have no illusions about keeping the information away from the hands of the Broker in the long run, but even so, we will consider how best to convince him to play along. Unless he changes his established patterns radically, he would be amenable to ensuring the galactic status quo.”

Tevos.

“A part of the military buildup, we would offer the krogans an associate status - if there was a unified krogan government.” The diplomat permitted herself a grin as she took in the surprised, suspicious look on Wrex’ face. “No, I am not joking. If a war is coming, the Council’s expert in matters military advised that it would be foolish to discard the krogans due to regrettable past events.“

The table warped and bent as the old warlord’s fingers clutched it, his eyes narrowed, mind spinning as he tried to get his bearings, to convince himself that this offer was genuine. He took a deep breath, before glaring at Valern.

“That’s going to be hard work, unless you give us what we need.”

Valern closed his eyes for a brief second, sighed.

“Wrex, we can’t just give you a cure for the genophage.” The deep, reverberating snarl of the krogan did not perturb the salarian as the Councilor went on. “We don’t have it and even if we did, I don’t think your people would trust it, would they?” A grudging agreement, the threat of imminent violence lessened as Wrex glared at Valern. “What I am prepared to provide you is the resources for creating the cure. Funding, scientists, lab equipment. It would be only fair, wouldn’t it, Spectre Urdnot?”

++++++

Shepard felt dead on his feet as he followed Hackett towards the flag bridge of the  _ Erebus _ . He understood the need for the quick action and the whirlwind of directives, but this particular day was beginning to be just a little too much even for him. 

“Apologies, Commander, but there are a few issues that need to be taken care of yesterday.” A bitter, sardonic grin flashed across Hackett’s craggy, scarred features. “And not just because our political masters want reassurances to feed their spindoctors.”

The Spectre’s eyes narrowed when they sat in the admiral’s stateroom, and Hackett motioned for silence, before his omnitool lit up, tracking for listening or recording devices, setting up a monitoring program for electronic intrusion as he keyed in the privacy field of the cabin.

“Is the situation this bad, sir?”

The older man shrugged.

“I’m probably too paranoid, but since an agent from Director Bergman indicated that there was potential trouble within both the First and Second Fleet, I’d rather not take any chances.”

Shepard nodded, sat in the indicated, rather comfortable chair. The display of the admiral’s desk lit up, as Hackett continued.

“Considering the current situation, Vipsania, Lidanya, and I agree that Fifth Fleet will spearhead the upcoming offensive operations against the geth. Our aim is to secure forward bases and establish depots for the push into the Perseus Veil, to open a corridor to Rannoch for the quarian fleet. At least, that is the official version, and that’s how I will present the deployment plans for both the Fleet Master and Parliament, if needed.”

“And unofficially, sir?”

Hackett was silent for a moment, before he took a deep breath and continued.

“Unofficially, it will be mostly the same - one way or another, we have to end the geth threat permanently before another Sovereign comes along. And of course it will not hurt to gather a few favors and good will from the quarians, either.” The admiral chuckled. “You know as well as I do that it’s much better to have a modicum of truth in such cases.”

Hackett typed a few commands, and the display changed.

“But just because we are focusing on the geth, we will not ignore the possible threat from the Reapers. There is already a team assembling for this effort, under the codename Task Force Aurora. I will detach the Normandy from the 69th Scouting Flotilla, and your priority will be to find and follow up upon xenoarcheological trails that might provide us insight into where exactly Saren found Sovereign.” The older man flashed a wry grin at the Spectre. “I believe your current crew is quite well staffed in that regard, and it would be a rather difficult task to find someone else with Doctor T’Soni’s expertise.”

Shepard was quiet for a few moments, considering, thinking.

“Am I to consider the last bit an order, sir?” The question was asked in a detached, neutral tone, yet Hackett looked as if he bit into something sour, before speaking with obvious reluctance and faint distaste.

“I am not sure how long I can stall that particular order, Commander. It’s not something I would ask for, but you are technically not serving under me.” Hackett locked eyes with the operative. “Unless you actually want me to make it an order?” Shepard froze for a moment, then blinked and slowly shook his head. “Thought so.”

The admiral reached into his desk, pulled out two tumblers and a flask. He offered one glass to Shepard, the operative accepting it with a nod.

“Stuff like this is why I don’t envy you N7s.” He grimaced. “There is one more appointment for you, Commander, a liaison from Task Force Aurora. She will be responsible for coordinating the efforts - well, at least once the rest of the scientists get here, and the Normandy’s repaired enough to be combat-effective.”

“How bad is it actually, sir? I only had time for a brief check, and neither Pressly nor Adams were exactly forthcoming in the summaries they provided.”

“She’s in bad shape, Shepard. The hits from debris during the battle would have been bad enough, what with the paper-thin armor she has, but your maniac of a pilot almost overloaded the drive core with the approach on Ilos during their relay jump, and then made it worse when he waltzed around Sovereign.” Hackett flashed a savage, predatory smile. “Though admittedly, it was perhaps the most impressive flying I ever witnessed, so to say. Still, the drive core needs serious maintenance in drydock, and the whole ship is basically a large sneeze away from flying apart; even with all the high-tech alloy we used in the construction, your pilot nearly overstressed the frame and almost blew up the compensators.”

“If it’s that serious, sir, when do you expect us back in the fray?”

“Ideally, I’d like at least three weeks, for maintenance and R&R for your crew. As things stand, we are lucky if we get one, two at most.”

“Any particular reason for that, sir? That is, if you can tell me?”

“I wish I could tell you something concrete, but the dispatches I have received from home are rather vague, unfortunately. One thing caught my attention, though - both Professor Yildirim and Major Pieterzoon have dropped off the grid.” The admiral’s craggy features darkened, as he nodded towards the suddenly wide-awake Spectre. “Thought that bit would get your attention, Shepard. As things look, I’m afraid we will not have much longer before we find out exactly what happened to the Protheans and those before them.”

The admiral sighed, seemed to age years.

“And I think with our luck, the public will find out about the Reapers sooner than we would like - and then we will have to deal with apocalyptic cults once again. I really wish Udina and his new friends good luck with navigating this particular minefield.”

A soft chime interrupted the admiral. He checked his omnitool, then turned to Shepard.

“The liaison is here. Best get this done with, then you can go and enjoy the well-earned rest, Commander.”

With a gesture of his omnitool, the door opened, admitting a rather striking, raven-haired woman wearing ONI uniform. Her cold blue gaze seemed to assess the two men for any weakness to exploit, any strength to use to her advantage. She saluted them, then sat down to the chair the admiral indicated.

“Shepard, this is Agent Miranda Lawson. She will be your liaison with Task Force Aurora.” Hackett flashed another quick, predatory grin at the Spectre. “Of course, she is a bit more than that.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Miranda’s voice was cool, measured. “With your permission?” Hackett nodded with raised eyebrows, and the woman pulled out a small, age-worn talisman of intricate craftsmanship, and whispered a soft, short incantation. The two men shared a glance, bleak resignation on their faces. The ONI operative turned towards Shepard, focusing her full attention on him.

“As Admiral Hackett said, I’m not simply here as a member of the task force, or even ONI. Tell me Commander, what do you know of Project Cerberus?”

The Spectre frowned, thought for a few seconds, his mind racing.

“Honestly, I can’t recall anything specific apart from rumors about it being a think tank dealing with applied xenoarcheological warfare.” He smiled sardonically. “It seems that as usual, ONI’s enjoying its black ops mystique.”

The answering smile could have frozen the oceans of Titan, before the operative sighed, nodding towards Shepard.

“I suppose you are somewhat correct, Shepard. We do like black ops and misinformation, but considering your background and the work N7s usually deal with, is the secrecy that surprising? Or would you release the full details of say the Irem Incident to the public?” 

The Spectre shook his head ruefully. 

“No, I wouldn’t. But using that little toy” he gestured towards the talisman “on top of the admiral’s precautions seems rather excessive even for ONI. And since your type never does anything without good reason, I’m rather worried about the implications.”

For a brief second, the perfectly sculpted marble of Miranda Lawson’s face cracked, and pain flashed across her features, before the icy calm returned.

“I wish it were not necessary, Commander. But we from Cerberus received troubling information about General Ungern-Sternberg’s department hinting at cultist activity - just like in the command structure of First and Second Fleet.” She took a deep breath. “Understand this, Shepard. Cerberus, at its core, is more of a conspiracy than even a proper black ops project or a mere think tank. Sure, we have resources, covert influence, and powerful members in every sense of the word, but what we do and why we do it requires utmost secrecy.”

Her voice slowly thawed, shades of passion entered her voice.

“We watch for the threats in the shadows, both from within and without. We fight against the corruption threatening to drag Humanity back down into the darkness, to turn us back into the fur-clad, howling barbarians who pray and scrape in front of terrible altars.” Her eyes blazed with fury, the implacable determination of a glacier behind them. “We will not allow that. Not when you and people like you sacrificed so much already. Yet to achieve that, we need your help, Shepard. We need the first human Spectre.”

Shepard leaned back, studying Miranda with narrowed eyes. The operative did not squirm or blink away, and calmly endured the scrutiny. The Spectre glanced at Hackett, who nodded slightly.

“All right Operative Lawson, I’m in.”

++++++

The victory at the First Battle of the Citadel almost managed to destroy the fragile new power structure of the Council. The public outcry at the severe loss of life both military and civilian, the damage done to the Citadel itself - these alone would have been enough to generate resentment that has not been seen since the Krogan Rebellions. The official reports and communiques issued in the following weeks about the geth invasion and Saren’s involvement hinted at rather serious shortsightedness on part of the Council according to the general, well-informed consensus of the galactic community. The result was, of course, rather harsh criticism against the three principal members. Yet this too paled compared to the way the existing, long-established status quo was cast aside mere hours after the  _ Normandy _ dealt the deathblow to Sovereign. Perhaps the admittance of the Alliance alone would have been grudgingly tolerated, or even applauded due to their efforts during the Saren Crisis, especially those of Spectre Shepard - but taken together with the quarians, both members and associate races were scrambling to crucify the Councilors who brokered this insane new arrangements. Having a newcomer to galactic politics, and the race ultimately most responsible for the atrocity was just too much - especially since established allies, long-term associates were summarily ignored, relegated to secondary status.

The Vol Protectorate cited its long-standing, close relations with the Hierarchy, its immense efforts in balancing and maintaining the stability of the galactic economy - a thankless, dull task that was nevertheless vital for a functioning Citadel. And their turian masters simply discarded them, put not just humanity, but those thieving quarians before them! The protests and threats died down when Councilors Sparatus and Udina conducted negotiations with Ambassador Din Korlack, promising a revision of the Treaty of Farixen as well as concessions for volus entry into the Systems Alliance financial markets. Meanwhile, Councilor Valern conducted his own deals with Barla Von on the Citadel itself.

The Courts of Dekuuna were still deliberating their protest, when Councilors Zaal’Koris and Tevos managed to present them with a solid argument about the current needs of the galaxy dictating swift, decisive actions - an unfortunate but unavoidable drawback of wartime, sadly. The conservative, meticulous elcor, the Councilors argued, were uniquely suited to oversee the post-war reconstruction, and draft the outlines for a political entity that hopefully could replace the obviously-outdated Citadel Council with a more egalitarian leadership. Meanwhile, Councilor Valern took time to visit a certain elcor merchant named Harrot on Omega.

The Illuminated Primacy was mollified when Councilors Tevos and Udina invited them to take the lead in the upcoming excavations and research to be conducted on Ilos, including access to the Prothean VI located on that world by Spectre Shepard’s team, the details of the access to be worked out by consulting Doctor Liara T’Soni. Meanwhile, Councilor Valern was discussing with Ambassador Zymandis the possibility of turning a previously-fictional character into reality.

In the Asari Republics, a cabal led by Irissa T’Shora was moving to recall and replace Councilor Tevos for her shortsightedness and for allowing the situation to escalate to such extent, proving without a doubt that her misstep during the Relay 314 Incident was in fact a warning sign of her incompetence. Councilors Zaal’Koris and Udina, perhaps unsurprisingly, quickly and rather forcefully stood in support for the asari Councilor. Meanwhile, Valern, accompanied by Spectres Vasir and Kryik, met with the High Priestess of the Temple of Athame.

A faction of the Salarian Union, championed by Dalatrass Esheel, urged to replace Councilor Valern, claiming that the current salarian on the Council was unsuited for politics, not able to consider practical, pragmatic solutions to the problems, and demonstrated a singular lack of talent for taking the long view. The Councilors were curiously silent on the issue, and after a visit from Spectre Jondum Bau to Dalatrass Linron, the matter was laid to rest, and Valern kept his seat.

The Turian Hierarchy took the issue surprisingly well, all things considered. Though their forces suffered perhaps the most losses, everyone involved in the fighting universally praised the performance of Admiral Vipsania’s people, and their sacrifices went a long way to make the Council races forget about the horrors unleashed by Saren. Councilor Sparatus offered to resign, citing his inability to see through Saren before the latter’s rampage, but Primarch Fedorian denied the request, after not just Valern and Tevos, but Zaal’Koris and Udina as well voiced their support for the incumbent turian Councilor.

The Migrant Fleet was simply too happy to have at least a modicum of reprieve to make any serious waves in the galactic politics, at least for the short term. Sure, there were grumbling voices about the underhanded methods of the Council almost blackmailing a simple teen, and not discussing their terms with proper diplomats or the Admiralty Board, but after the grumbles reached a certain old warlord, said person promised to eat the dissenting pyjacks if they did not shut up. That went a long way to silence the grumblings.

The Systems Alliance was also dealing with internal strife, as Charles Saracino and his Terra Firma party went berserk at what they perceived as the betrayal of the species for petty personal gains, sacrificing the lives of countless heroes so the uncaring alien races could profit from humanity’s blood and tears. Udina and his supporters obviously forgot the lessons taught by the First Contact War, and the Saren Crisis - after all, both were sparked by turians, and now humanity’s finest would have to bow and scrape when the selfsame species who brought war and threat of extinction twice already at humanity’s doorstep? With the sudden, suspicious death of President Clark, the Alliance government was thrown into chaos and infighting - with Fleet Master Sheridan actively advocating for at least an interim military government, while the upcoming geth campaign would be finished, and proper civilian elections could be held. The motion was vehemently opposed by both Senator Adkins and Minister of Education Lawson - the latter resigning in protest when the Fleet Master would not back down quietly.

++++++

The destruction of Sovereign sent ripples surging along the currents of power in the interstellar void and beyond, the wave of its passing sparking off dreams, nightmares, passion in its wake, birthing plots and plans alike as those sensitive to such events felt the Reaper’s passing.

++++++

In a city of shadows, lies and cruelty, a crippled, peerless craftsman stared deep into a crystalline mirror close to his anvil, witnessing the fell blow dealt to the immense Reaper by the  _ Destiny Ascension _ . Pride, fury, and worry warred on his face as he witnessed the bastardized, severely weakened offspring of his own handiwork bear fruit at last. He considered the likely reactions from his siblings, especially those of their current, ever more angry leader, whose body wept blood and molten iron while his sword sang with the cry of the damned. Still, the artisan closed his eyes with a defeated sigh, sending out a call for his far-seeing sister, to consult the Maiden about her prophecies.

++++++

On a distant, feral planet, monstrous, green creatures howled their fury at the sky, battling with crude weaponry, seemingly killing each other for the sheer pleasure of fighting. The carnage stopped as a number of the brutes fell to their knees, a halo of green-tinged energy playing around their heads, blood pouring from their eyes, ears, mouths. 

++++++

In a nameless, faraway system halfway between Alliance territory and the Perseus Veil, Major Pieterzoon wondered for a brief moment why their way led here, of all places. He could not shake the dismay he felt, mentally drawing comparisons to their ancient trek on the Aegean Sea - and he feared that this time, the repercussions would be even more severe. Still, his friend and humanity alike needed him - and he did his level best to navigate the eddies of Fate to reach this point; even without knowing exactly what they would find.

With the pseudo-motion of hyperspace jump, another small vessel appeared in-system, close by. The profile and aesthetics of the alien ship seemed somehow insectile, distinctly inhuman - and very, very familiar for anyone who did not spent the weeks since Eden Prime under a rock. The fact that a geth ship was here was not that much of a surprise - but the message it broadcast over the open channels, in several languages simultaneously, while maneuvering clearly to maximize the targetable aspect, was jaw-dropping. 

The major shared a glance with his friend, before he granted the request, and the two ships began the intricate dance of docking. 

The geth platform that crossed over was alone, and markedly dissimilar to the typical mechs seen in such number recently. It wore a battered, holed N7 armor plate as its chest. The thing tilted its flashlight head, the shutters on it irising open, a flap on the side raised as a wondering eyebrow as Professor Yildirim stepped closer, placing a hand on the damaged armor plate, and spoke with a voice of power.

"Machine, heal thyself."

Warm, golden glow suffused the geth platform, as the once-broken chestpiece became whole once again.

++++++

Beyond the galactic rim, the Harbinger of Tsara’noga’s Wrath assessed the situation, still recovering from the sudden, painful loss of a part of its self. The tendrils of its will quested along ancient, long-dormant pathways and channels, as it sought for any means to extract swift and terrible retribution on those upstarts who dared hurt it.

In an immense station circling a black hole, the designated leader of a slave race swayed for a moment, before its four eyes glowed a baleful yellow glare. The armies started to mobilize, their target selected, the ships ready to collect not just the occasional sample but the tribute due to the ancient lords who would once again walk amongst them.

The seeking tendrils of Wrath sparked echoes in a sleeping, dreaming husk of self orbiting a gas giant, long abandoned for dead. The fragmented, fitful dreams sparked energy fluctuations, making the empty dreadnought shudder - and in a nearby system, a lone human vessel caught the brief flare of alien energy, leading them in a new direction.

Another tendril, another echo of power was much, much more successful - and the once-dead, misnamed Leviathan was half-roused from its aeons-long coma, its awakening sending a whole empire reeling under the lashes of Wrath from the Harbinger.


End file.
